Clinging To Life
by JulieM
Summary: Mac’s psychic talents come to the surface again to help her and Harm with a case. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Mac's psychic talents come to the surface again to help her and Harm with a case.

Disclaimer: JAG and its main characters belong to DPB and to CBS. I don't make any profit from writing any of these fics, but simply get to exercise my overactive imagination every now and then. Please don't sue me, as I'm just a student with no money!

Rating: PG. Sorry, no smut in this one!

Category: H/M shipper. Sorry, this one is UST. But I thought it would be good to recreate the kind of relationship that Harm and Mac had, way back when. Hope it brings back some happy memories of our favourite couple!

Spoilers: Little references are made to 'Psychic Warrior' and 'Capital Crime.' This story takes place some time after Mattie comes to live with Harm, before Webb comes back onto the scene, so the events of Paraguay don't happen.

Feedback is always very welcome…

OOOO

Sarah MacKenzie felt her heart pounding in her chest, after waking up from the terrifying nightmare, silent tears wetting her face. Almost disbelieving, she touched her fingers to her cheek and pulled them away to confirm that, yes, she had indeed been crying in her sleep again. The wet spot on her pillow was testimony to that. What on earth was going on?

Mac sat up, shaking her head to try and get all of the memories into order. What had she been dreaming about? The memories were fuzzy and didn't seem to make any sense. As far as she could remember, she had seemed to be the only one in the dream; nobody else had been there. That in itself was unusual, because normally if she had a bad dream (and she did, frequently, especially in the aftermath of her confrontation with Sadik Fahd and the death of Clayton Webb) every person she had ever had involvement with featured in her dreams, usually to berate her and taunt her. But, there was one person upon whom she could count to save her in her dreams; Harm. He was the one constant in her life, her saviour in her nightmares, her very own knight in shining armour…Only he wasn't hers, at least not in real life. Why had he not been there in this one? It was strange, because in the dream, Mac had felt the life being choked out of her, the feeling of not being able to draw breath. Mac knew that Harm would always do his uttermost to save her, whether in dreams or real-life. He was the one person she could always count on. Why had he not been there?

Mac was startled out of her thoughts by the sudden shrill noise of the phone on her bedside table. Once she had got over her fright, Mac roused herself and bent over to peer at the screen of the caller ID unit. She didn't recognise the number.

"Who on earth would call me at six in the morning?" she thought to herself.

She was tempted to leave it, because she knew that it wasn't the Admiral, Bud and Harriet or Harm's number, so probably would not be an urgent matter. But something made her reconsider and pick the receiver up. Even afterwards, Mac could not have explained why she did so.

"Hello…"

At first, she was greeted only by silence.

"Hello? This is Colonel Sarah MacKenzie…"

Still nothing.

"Is anybody there? I'm going to hang up if you don't stop messing around…"

She was halted by a soft, indiscernible sound on the other side of the line.

"Hello…is somebody there?"

"Help…" came the soft reply.

"Who is this?"

"Help…please…"

"Where are you? Can you tell me where you are? I can come and find you…"

"Need help…have to help me…"

"Yes, I will," Mac assured the soft voice's owner, "Just tell me where you are…Do you recognise anything around you? Can you see any landmarks? Are you indoors or outside?"

"Oh, God…he's coming…"

"Wait, wait…don't panic. I can come find you. Tell me where you are, I'll bring the police and we won't let anybody hurt you."

Mac knew it was futile as she heard the voice on the other side of the line begin to softly cry in panic. Just as suddenly as it had come through, the call was cut off.

"Hello?" Mac shouted down the line, helplessly, "Please, are you there?"

But it was no good. The line had been cut off.

"No!" Mac shouted into the darkness.

Frantically, she dialled star 69 but was told that the call had come from a cellphone. Then, she tried desperately to remember the number she had seen on the ID screen. Something-6459…something-5469? She couldn't remember. She hadn't paid much attention to the number itself, just whether or not it looked familiar. It had definitely ended in a nine. That she could say for certain. And some of the digits had been 547, because that was the Falls Church area code, she had at first thought that maybe Genral Cresswell had been calling her from headquarters. And if it were a call from a cellphone, it would have a particular number on the beginning of it…what number was it that cellphones used? She tried the first number she had thought of, but was told that the number was not in use. Next, she woke up a very disgruntled man. After uttering a profuse apology, she tried a couple of other combinations, which yielded nothing. When she had finally exhausted her own ideas, she called the one person she trusted beyond a shadow of a doubt to suggest some more.

OOOO

Later that morning, Harm sat on her living room couch, leaning forwards, listening to her intently.

When she had finished describing the events of that morning to him, he asked her, softly,

"Are you sure, Mac? I mean, I'm not doubting you, but there are very malicious people out there, who get a kick out of causing this kind of upset to innocent people…"

"No," Mac cut him off, "This was real…Absolutely real."

Mac had no doubts, even though Harm could have very well been right. There was logic to the argument, there were some very twisted people who got off on this sort of trick, but Mac really knew that this was not one such case. What she had heard on the other side of that line had been completely real. There was no faking that fear and panic that she had heard in the voice, no person was so good an actor as to recreate that.

"Okay," Harm nodded, having complete faith in Mac's assessment, "Your word is good enough for me…"

If Mac said it was real and that somebody did need their help, then he'd have faith in her and they would work together to help whoever needed it. Now, they just needed to find out who it was.

OOOO

Marine Corps Base Camp Joseph H. Pendleton

San Diego, California

0755 Zulu

General Alan Donnachy, for now a stand-in drill sergeant, surveyed the impressive platoon before him. Before he'd come in to command them, they had hardly been able to tie their own shoe laces, but now, they were a force to be reckoned with, an asset to the United States Marine Corps. Their last CO had been far too soft on them and it showed in their performance. It had only been a few months before, when General Attwood had been taken suddenly ill and he had been drafted in to be their temporary replacement, but the arrangement proved to be prodigious, so they'd kept him on the job. Now, few could disagree that General Donnachy was the best thing to happen to this platoon.

When all was set, the General gave the order and all the men took aim at the targets in the distance.

"Fire!"

The first round of shots rang out, then a second and a third, after each one of their CO's orders. General Donnachy was looking through his binoculars, watching the high percentage of hits catching the targets within the marked area in the centre. Scanning from target to target, Donnachy suddenly hesitated and looked back the way, after a hint of something caught his eye.

'Must be light hitting something…' his mind registered, vaguely. The sun was quite strong at this time of day. He scanned the area between the fifth and sixth targets, not seeing anything at first. Then he saw it, fluttering in the wind; a hint of gold. At first, his mind didn't discern what it was but when it finally hit home, Donnachy's heart clenched in his chest.

"Hold your fire! Hold your fire!" he boomed and his men froze, at first thinking that this was a test, to see how well they obeyed his instruction. Everyone halted in their execution of the exercise, straight away.

"Man down, I repeat, man down," he reported into his radio.

The replying voice stated that medics were on their way.

He dropped the radio receiver and made his way down to where his men were still standing, bewildered.

"Benson, Kruger, James, you three come with me, the rest of you, wait here for the medics…"

The men followed his lead as he crossed the firing range, their pace fast and urgent.

As they got closer, Donnachy saw that he had been right; the flash of gold was a person, their blond hair fluttering in the breeze; the blond hair of a young girl, surely not out of her teens. She had been shot through the chest. The way she was just laying there reminded Donnachy of a pitiful young bird, unsuspectingly and suddenly shot out of the air and fallen to the earth. Even as he moved to check for a pulse, he knew that it was hopeless. Her eyes were staring right at him, unseeingly, as if taking in one last sight during her brief life.

"No," he told the other young men as he felt no pulse, only deathly cold, "It's no good…Move back, this will be considered a crime scene. We can't touch anything."

The three men warily moved back, watching their steps as they did so, as if afraid that they might step on some vital clue.

"They're not used to this, bless them," Donnachy thought to himself then wondered about it, as this sort of thing was most unlike him. He supposed that it was due to the fact that the last time he had seen death, he and his troops had been in a war zone and as the oldest, he had felt like he should be the one offering them a fatherly show of support. None of these men had seen action, few had probably seen death this close up and personal, but certainly none of them had seen the death of a child, an innocent, not like this. Seeing combatants, fellow officers die during wartime was bad enough, but this…Even he was having major problems with it…Kruger looked positively green. Once they got back, he took inventory of all of the weapons; who was firing what and how many rounds each of them had dispensed.

After leaving the base coroner with the deceased, he returned to his office.

OOOO


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry for the delay...My laptop is now home and all better! Enjoy!

OOOO

See part 1 for disclaimer.

Part 2…

That day was filled with angst for Harm and Mac, as they could not get the situation out of their minds. Mac had called headquarters, asking the General for the day off, as she had reasoned that if they (whoever 'they' were) called back, they'd obviously call her house phone. But the General denied her a personal day of leave and Mac had no choice but to go into work. She heard nothing more from her mystery caller.

OOOO

The next day was even more excruciating because there was even less going on in the office than there had been the day before. Things had nearly ground to a stand-still, of late. And this made Mac even more bitter, because the he could very well have spared her for one day, but chose not to out of spite, at least in Mac's mind, anyway.

Now, because there was so little to do, even in terms of paperwork, Mac could not escape the torture of the memories of the phone call. The voice played over and over in her mind and she was helpless to do anything but to listen to it.

"Colonel, the General would like to see you in his office, please," PO Jen Coates buzzed through on the intercom.

Mac gave a sigh and got to her feet, making sure that her uniform was all squared before she left to go to meet the General in his office. In her haste, she almost ran into Harm as she left her office. Obviously, Cresswell wanted to see him too.

"Sorry," she apologised, "He called for you, too?"

Harm nodded his head.

"Yeah," he replied, "Must be important if he's going to put us both on it…"

Mac noted that Harm seemed as anxious as she felt and her heart seemed to warm as she realised that he had been worrying about this problem of hers as much as she had. Harm seemed to be a different person, these days. Of course, he still had that charm, that essence that was uniquely Harm. He'd still tease her, with that glint in his eye that suggested mischief, but he was a lot more responsible, wasn't the kind of person to discharge a weapon into the roof of a packed courtroom anymore. Mac smiled at the memory. What a day that had been! Sure, it was funny, now that she looked back on it, but there had also been something about it that set her on edge. Perhaps it was the fact that Harm had been so unpredictable back then. That old Harmon Rabb was now gone and that was not necessarily a bad thing. In his place was the Harmon Rabb who cared for and instilled values in a teenage girl who had essentially lost both her parents and had been in danger of falling through the cracks. Mac acknowledged that Matilda Grace had been good for Harm. He had seemed to grow quite a bit, to see for himself what the important things in life were and how they could act to change it beyond all measure. The only thing that Mac regretted about it was that it had to come to an end when Mattie reconciled with her father and that Harm had been hurt in the process. But that was vintage Harm; putting others before himself because he knew it was the right thing to do. Perhaps that was why Harm was so good at his job, because he had that relentless drive to pursue the truth and do what was right, regardless of how it would affect him.

Mac reeled her thoughts in as they got to the door to the General's inner office. Once inside, they snapped to attention before their new Commanding Officer. The fact that he left them standing at attention just a little bit longer than was probably appropriate wasn't missed by either Harm or Mac. Each knew that the other had noticed, even though they didn't dare look to one another, but when the command 'at ease' came, sat in the proffered chairs. The General just sat in silence, looking to Mac. It was unnerving to say the least, but Mac didn't flinch, knew that she'd only be giving him the upper hand if she did. Harm suppressed the urge to smile that was pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Finally, with a gruff clearing of his throat, the General looked away from Mac and to the papers sitting on his desk.

"Colonel, Commander, I'm sending you to Camp Pendleton, San Diego. An incident there requires your investigation. It would usually be investigated by one of their own from JAG Southwest, but since there is nobody there who would be 'suitable' to investigate, due to circumstances involved, outside assistance was requested…"

"What are the, umm, 'circumstances' of this investigation, Sir?" Harm asked, but the General just ignored him and Harm thought that maybe Cresswell hadn't heard him, though he couldn't see how.

"Your flight leaves in just over three hours, go home and pack, both of you. A JAG car will be by your homes by eleven to take you to the airport. I'll send all of the paperwork, once I receive it, with the car, so you can take a look at the details of the case on your way to Dulles. That is all, dismissed."

Harm and Mac quickly stood and snapped off a salute.

"Aye, Sir."

OOOO

They soon learned that the details of the case were very sketchy. A young, white female had been found on the grounds of the shooting range, the morning before. She had most likely been strangled or asphyxiated, although she had sustained a gunshot injury as well. She had been identified, but due to a problem at the morgue, they had not yet been able to perform an autopsy to formally establish the cause of death.

"I don't understand," Harm spoke in a hushed voice, taking in the details outlined, "It says here that she had no purse or id on her, yet they were able to give her

name…'Cassandra Drake, fifteen years old.'

Mac just shrugged.

"And I don't see why any one of Southwest's JAG officers couldn't have handled the case."

Mac just shrugged again. She was too tired to think, right now. She'd gotten no sleep since the phone call, the morning before. But there was nothing she could do now, she was no longer in DC, she was on her way to California, away from her home phone. Still, she could at least check the messages on her machine, from time to time. She still held out hope that whoever it was would call her back, to let her know that everything was okay.

"I'm going to get some sleep," she informed Harm.

"Good idea," he nodded as she lay her head back, "How much sleep did you manage to get, last night?"

"None," she mumbled and was asleep within seconds.

Harm just sighed and leaned his own head back.

OOOO

Camp Pendleton,

San Diego, California

1815 Zulu

General Donnachy looked up as there was a knock on his open door.

"Sir?" John Kruger, a man in his early twenties spoke up, "May I have a minute of your time?"

"Of course, of course. Come on in, shut the door…"

He waited until the man was comfortably seated then asked him, "What can I do for you?"

"Sir…about the girl we found on the shooting range…She was shot, wasn't she, Sir? I saw her blood…"

"Yes, she was."

"And was it one of us who shot her? I was on target five, it could very easily have been me…I swear, I didn't see her, Sir. I wouldn't have fired a shot if I had known she was there…"

"Easy there, Private," Donnachy halted the young man, "I haven't had much time to consult with the coroner, but what he did tell me was that he didn't think that her gunshot wound was the probable cause of death. It appears that she might have been strangled, but until an autopsy is carried out, we won't know for sure. As it was, she was a civilian trespassing on US Navy property without proper authorisation…"

"But she's still dead, Sir," Kruger spoke up.

"Yes," Donnachy nodded, slowly, "Yes, she is…"

At that moment, there was a knock on his door.

"Enter," he authorised then turned to Kruger.

"Will that be all, Kruger?"

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

"Sir," the young petty officer stuck his head inside the door, "The JAG investigators from DC are here. They wondered if they could take a minute of your time?"

"That would be fine. Just give me one minute, petty officer."

He dismissed Kruger and after saluting him in return, told the petty officer, "Show them in."

He was pleasantly surprised by the handsome couple shown into his office. They certainly made an attractive couple and were easier on the eye than any of the officers at JAG headquarters here, especially the woman.

"Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie and Commander Rabb, Sir," the man spoke.

"Colonel, Commander," he greeted them both, "You are here to investigate the death of the young girl behind the firing range?"

They both nodded and gave him the rundown of what they knew, so far. Then they asked, "Sir, do you have any idea what Ms. Drake could have possibly been doing on the land in range of the firing range?"

Donnachy shook his head then asked, "That's who she is? Her name is Drake?"

"Yes, Sir," Mac told him, "Cassandra Drake. She was fifteen years old."

"Damn," the man cursed, "Far too young…that wouldn't be any relation to Jimmy Drake, would it?"

"Sir?" Harm and Mac both spoke up, curious.

"Colonel James Drake was a head investigator at the JAG offices here, a couple of years ago. I think he retired or something…can't remember why…"

"We've heard nothing about that, Sir…" Harm spoke up, "But we've only just arrived, so we've still got a lot of investigating to do. We'll look into it, it's a possibility."

"Sir," Mac jumped in, "If her Father used to be an officer on the base, might Cassandra have been familiar with the grounds?"

"Maybe," Donnachy supposed, "But it's hardly smiled upon, to let your children run around on the base. I don't think Colonel Drake lived on base…I did, myself, until very recently."

After this, Harm and Mac thanked him and left.

OOOO


	3. Chapter 3

OOOO

See part 1 for disclaimer.

Part 3…

Harm and Mac got settled into their quarters and they sat down at the desk in Mac's room, to go over the case notes again.

"We'll have to stop by the coroner's," Harm noted to Mac, "I'm sure the coroner's report won't be ready yet, but we could pick up a copy of the crime-scene photographs. Then, we could get somebody to take us out to the shooting range.

Mac nodded.

"Do you want to get some sleep, first?" he asked her.

"No," Mac shook her head, "Not unless you do. I got some good sleep on the plane."

Mac told him nothing of the nightmares she dreaded, every time she shut her eyes to get some sleep.

OOOO

After they got a gunnery sergeant to run them by the coroner's office, they went out to the shooting range and, while flicking through the photographs, surveyed the crime scene.

"This area isn't readily visible from where the men were firing," Mac noted.

"No," Harm agreed, "Unless she was standing and waving, there was no way they could possibly have seen her. The only reason that General Donnachy did was because he had binoculars. Look, he said that when he first caught sight of her, it was because of the glint of the sun off her hair. Most likely, she was already dead and lying on the ground."

Mac looked at a picture of the victim and absently noted that, at least in the black and white photographs, the girl seemed very blond. Combined with the wind blowing her hair about, she was probably not very conspicuous, but enough so that the observant General would have seen her through his binoculars.

"Look at this, Mac," Harm snapped her out of her thoughts.

There was a white outline of something, some kind of evidence to the side of the victim's body, outlined with tape in the vegetation.

"What's that?" she asked and Harm flipped through the photographs that he held.

"A cellphone," he said, showing her one photograph, "Looks like the victim had crush injuries to her hand, where she was holding the phone…The cellphone itself, according to the records, was crushed to pieces…Do you think she tried calling for help?"

Mac nodded, "Maybe…What's that?"

She pointed to something in the vegetation, not too far away from them. They stood and went a little closer, but stopped dead and pulled back, when they realised what it was.

"Urgh!" Harm uttered.

"Vomit," Mac surmised, "Do you think it belonged to the victim or the perp?"

Harm tried to clear his thoughts, then supposed, "Could be either, really…Or another officer. How about we make that our next stop? JAG headquarters?"

Mac just nodded her assent as they continued making notes of the crime scene.

OOOO

Like back home, the Southwest JAG offices were as calm as a churchyard when they got there.

"Funny, how none of the officers here were 'suitable' to take on this investigation," Harm muttered quietly in Mac's ear, before they went to meet with the resident JAG.

Mac just smiled, wryly, nodding.

They were shown through to Admiral Carl Basingstoke's office, where they were immediately put at ease. This Admiral seemed to be all about getting things done, but with little of the formality that Cresswell expected of his officers.

"I'd like to thank you both for coming all this way to investigate…I'm sure you understand why our own officers can't take on this case…"

"Actually, Sir," Harm spoke up, careful to remain respectful, "We weren't actually told a lot of the details of the case before we left, but one detail that was missing was…um…just why the officers here were unsuitable to investigate…Not that it is my place to ask such a question. We're only here to do a job, without ruffling any feathers, but we think it may shed some important light on the investigation of we understood the circumstances…"

"No problem…" Admiral Basingstoke waved his hand, dismissively, "No problem at all…Let's see, how exactly can I explain…?"

Harm and Mac just sat in silence.

"You see, the vast majority of the officers here have… a personal involvement in the case; they knew the victim, Cassie. The one officer who didn't know her felt that he was not able to adequately remain impartial, because of a death in his family recently that bares some resemblance to the circumstances of this case. A year and a half ago, Cassie's father worked in this office. He had to resign suddenly due to health reasons. His daughter, Cassie is a…was a…favourite with many of the staff members, even though her father is no longer here. We were all very shocked and shaken by the news of her death…you saw where…it happened?"

"Yes, Sir," Harm and Mac nodded.

Now they understood. A couple of details fell into place. That must have been how Cassandra got onto the base, because she was friendly with the officers working here.

"We were told that there had been a Colonel Drake in this office, Sir. But we weren't sure if there was a connection with the victim in this case," Harm told the man, "We're sorry but we'll have to conduct some interviews with your staff, with your permission. We'll try to keep from poking at any wounds."

"That's okay," the Admiral told them, "Please, do your best to get to the bottom of this quickly…Cassie and Jimmy deserve that much…This is a real tragedy. After all that has happened, now this…"

They didn't get much more instruction from Admiral Basingstoke, so they went to conduct interviews with the staff. Once those were done, they interviewed some of the officers who had been on the firing range when the victim was discovered. Three of these had been in close proximity to the body, having accompanied General Donnachy when he went to check on the victim's status.

"What did you notice about the victim, when you and the other officers accompanied your CO to the crime scene, Private?" Harm asked one of the young men.

"Just that the victim seemed to be bleeding, Sir," the young man replied, "he went to check for a pulse, the General that is, but it was obviously too late…I could tell by her eyes…They were open, staring…She wasn't there, anymore."

"Were you acquainted with Cassandra Drake, Private?" Mac asked him.

"Not exactly, Ma'am," he hesitated, "Let me see…I just don't know…I knew of Miss Drake…She did come onto the base, frequently, when her Father was still here. That was a while ago, now. I was more familiar with her Father."

"To your knowledge, were any of your fellow officers acquainted with her?"

"Not most of them…" the man shook his head, "Wait! Yes, I'm sure that Johnny was. He used to play in the band…That is, the military band. He knew Miss Drake from that. They got her in to perform as mascot for them, one time."

"How well did he know her?"

"Not very well, Sir."

OOOO

They learned as much from 'Johnny,' private John Kruger. He was a skinny young man with blond hair cut short and high, and looked like he was barely out of his teens himself.

"Yes, Ma'am," he answered Mac's questions without reservation, "I did know Cassie some…Her father used to be a JAG. And last year, she was mascot in the July 4th parade. Our regular fell sick suddenly and she filled in. She did a few times, as I recall."

"Were the two of you particularly friendly?"

"I wouldn't say so, Sir. Hell, Cassie was a very friendly girl, no doubt about that, but I only met her a couple of times and never outside the band. She was around JAG headquarters quite a bit. When her Daddy fell ill, she'd bring things back and forth from the office for him. Got his driver to run her. Maybe the officers at JAG would be able to tell you more, Ma'am."

Both Harm and Mac ignored the last comment, they'd already talked to the JAG officers, but hadn't got much out of them, most of them seemed to be quite emotionally raw. Maybe they'd try again when all of the emotions had had time to settle down.

"How about when you, the other officers and General Donnachy approached the crime scene? Did you notice anything?"

"Like what, Ma'am?"

"The position Cassandra's body was lying in, any evidence around her body, anything like that…"

"Well…I guess I noticed that she was on her stomach…there was a bullet hole in her back…she was bleeding from the wound, or had been bleeding, I guess…her head was turned to the side and her eyes were just staring up at me. I can't get her eyes out of my head..."

The private shook his head, seemingly to try to get back to more relevant details.

"Um…there was something in her hand. And her hand was all black and blue. Did somebody do something to her hand, Ma'am?"

"Yes, but we haven't established just what, yet. The post-mortem should be occurring as we speak. Did any of you move the body, corporal?"

"No, Ma'am. The General checked to see if she still had a pulse, but told us it was no use. I could already tell, the way her eyes were open and glazed over. But none of us touched Cassie except for the General."

"And did the situation…get the best of any of you?" Harm asked.

At first, the man didn't understand.

"Sir?"

"I mean…did the sight of Miss Drake's body get to any of you? Something like that is enough to turn anybody's stomach."

"Oh," the private exclaimed, understanding, "No, not to my memory, Sir. I was pretty close to it, but I didn't toss my cookies. And neither did anyone else, Sir."

Mac had to bite her cheek at the term the corporal used. Trust the young'uns to come up with something like that! She'd heard some good ones, in her time around Chloe.

They concluded the interview at that, conceding that they still didn't know who the vomit at the crime scene belonged to. They were sure that the original investigating officer must have gotten a sample of it and sent it for analysis. They'd get their hands on that evidence tomorrow, when they went to the coroner's to pick up the autopsy report.

OOOO

Mac didn't sleep well that night. She had the dream again and this time, the details were clearer, but she was still confused. Because she was away on investigation, her notebook was lying out on the bedside table and she was able to get a lot of the details written down before they began to blur. Reading it all back, it now made more sense. She, at first, seemed to be on her own in the dream again, but she wasn't herself. She was somebody else, but she didn't know who. And the surroundings in the dream didn't seem at all familiar, at least not so in the darkness. Night surrounded 'her' in the dream and although she had thought at first that she was alone, she now realised that she was not. Somebody was behind her, not far away. It now seemed as if she was being chased. That would explain the panic that she felt, why she could not properly draw breath. The next second, she was aware of being pushed down on the ground, her face pushed down and a weight of something on her back. Mac's last recollections of the dream, before she had woken up, were of trying to scream, but no sound had come out. It was as if there was something either on or inside her mouth. Dirt? A cloth? A hand? Mac couldn't say for sure. Her arms and legs were clawing at the ground, in a desperate bid to get to her feet, get away, but it was no good. Before she woke up, a thought had sprung into Mac's mind; 'Help me.'

It was in the voice that she had heard over the phone, several nights before.

All of this bore remarkable resemblance to the psychic-incident that she had experienced when investigating a case with Sturgis, not long after he was moved to JAG. Mac knew in this instance that she was not merely dreaming. She was seeing this girl's attack and possibly even her death, through her own eyes.

OOOO

"My, aren't we cranky, this morning!" Harm exclaimed at the mess hall the next morning.

He had been preaching to her about the benefits of a meat-free life, seeing her devour bacon and she had lost her temper.

"I'm sorry, Harm," she apologised to him, "but you know better to try and dissuade a marine from her meat."

"Won't make that mistake again," he just smiled, "So, did you get a good sleep, last night?"

"Not really," she replied, but didn't go into it any more than that. She wanted to get these thoughts out of her head and into a working frame of mind. She and Harm had a job to do and she could not afford to have her attention elsewhere.

"C'mon, let's get to work," she suggested as she finished her breakfast and went to stand.

Harm nodded and followed her lead.

OOOO

That morning, before they went to pick up the autopsy report, they went to check in with Admiral Basingstoke again.

"Good morning…this came for the two of you, last night. It's the phone records for Cassandra's cellphone. One of my officers managed to get a court-order for it, yesterday morning, then the cellphone company processed it in the afternoon. Figured you'd probably want to look at it, see what calls she was getting."

"Thank you," Harm and Mac could only stutter. They hadn't figured that they'd be getting much help on the case, being the 'outsiders' and all. Maybe the people in this office had been very close to Cassandra.

"Uh, Admiral, Sir?" Mac asked the man, "If we could, we'd like to get a bit more information from you."

"Proceed…" he authorised and Harm and Mac both began to ask him questions, trying to fill in the holes in their knowledge of the case.

"Where do Miss Drake's parents reside, Sir? If we could, we'd like to talk to them."

"Only Cassandra's Father is still around. Her Mother died when Cassie was two. Just her, her father and his carer, living over on Brookfield Drive."

"Carer?" Mac asked.

"Yeah, he's in the late stages of MS. I'm not sure how much he'll be able to help you, but I'm sure Timothy will help you as much as he can. That's the carer."

"Okay," Harm nodded, "And where is Miss Drake's school? We'd like to talk to her friends, too."

"If possible, could you leave it another day?" the Admiral requested, "They were only been informed of Cassie's death yesterday. They'll probably all still be in shock. Cassie was well-liked by everyone at the school."

"Aye, Sir," Harm acquiesced, "And her school's name, Sir?"

"Brookfield High," the Admiral told them and added, off-hand, "She and my daughter were meant to be graduating, later this spring…"

At Mac's curious look, he nodded, "Yeah, she would have just been sixteen…she was ahead of her years, a very smart kid. On the honour role, the gymnastics team, cheerleading squad, top of her year and involved in social service…a really special kid…"

Harm and Mac left the Admiral to his musings, staring out of a window and headed to the coroner's.

OOOO


	4. Chapter 4

OOOO

See part 1 for disclaimer.

Part 4…

Once they got the preliminary autopsy report, they went back to their accommodation. Even though they had an office that had been cleared for their use in their time there, they both decided that they would work better if they changed into some civvies and got comfortable. They crashed on the sofa in Mac's room.

"You want to go over the autopsy report first or the cellphone records?" Harm asked, holding the two documents up.

"Why don't you take one and I take the other?" Mac asked then took the autopsy report from Harm, leaving him with the phone records.

Harm just watched her as she flipped it open and began scanning through.

"So, what does it say?" he asked.

"As we thought; asphyxiation," Mac replied, "although the gunshot wound was inflicted soon before and probably slowed her down quite a bit…Bruising to the back suggests that someone pinned her face down. Her wrists, judging by more bruising, were held down too, so she couldn't have put up much of a struggle. Before she died, her lungs collapsed and she died from lack of oxygen."

"What a terrible way to die," Harm shuddered then got to reading from the document in his own hands.

"Yeah," Mac nodded as she continued to read through the details.

"This is interesting," she spoke up again, a few minutes later, "It says here that something was also forced inside her mouth, probably to keep her from shouting out…a fibre of synthetic leather was found wedged between two of her back teeth…She must have been biting down on it."

"What could that have been?" Harm asked, "The sleeve of a jacket, something like that?"

"Maybe," Mac nodded, "nothing fitting the description was left at the scene, so the killer must have taken it with them."

"Who on earth could hurt a fifteen-year-old child? Who would want to?" Harm pondered aloud.

"Another teenager?" Mac suggested, "The teenage years are fraught with troubles."

"But the Admiral said that Cassandra was well-liked by the kids at her school…Still, we won't know that for sure until we can speak to some of her friends and teachers, tomorrow…"

"But how did her killer get onto the base?" Mac asked.

"The same way that Cassandra did, through influence with officers on the base."

"How about the officers on the base? Maybe Cassandra was involved with one of them?"

Harm nodded, "Yeah, Kruger already told us that she was a real friendly kid. Maybe she had a closer relationship with one of the officers? We'll need to secure some search warrants for their belongings. Maybe that might turn up an item consistent with the traces of material in Cassandra's teeth."

Mac paused for a minute.

"What would you do if you found out that Mattie was taking an interest in older officers on a military base in Virginia?"

"Kill those officers with my bare hands and lock her in her bedroom until she was thirty…"

Mac laughed at his answer, but Harm continued.

"I'm serious, kids that age shouldn't be left unsupervised on a military base. Besides all of the obvious dangers, I know what it's like to be young and drunk on the power of being in the military…I wouldn't want my own kids exposed to that, even if they were 21."

"Okay," Mac joked, "I'm sorry I even brought that up, now…Harm?…Harm?"

Harm had switched off and was now in his own little world, gazing at the records for Cassandra Drake's cellphone.

"What, do you not think that teenagers should own cellphones, either? How long is that thing…"

She cut her words off when a look of horror disbelief Harm's face.

"Jesus, Mary _and_ Joseph…" Harm gasped, cursing proficiently.

Mac snatched the records from him and began to scan the details. She paused when she came to a very familiar one. She didn't at first believe her eyes.

"It's her, Mac…" Harm muttered, the shock very apparent in his eyes.

OOOO

"It _is_ her," Mac breathed softly, "She called me for help, Harm."

"You couldn't have possibly done anything for her, Mac. She was clear across the country," Harm moved to reassure her.

"I know," Mac nodded, "But she sounded so scared…I wish I could have given her some kind of comfort in her final moments. Like when AJ or Jimmy fall down and scrape their knees…Sometimes kids just want to know that you care, that you're sharing their pain with them. It makes all of the difference in the world."

"I'm sure that she did get some comfort from your voice, Mac," Harm squeezed her shoulder, "I wonder how she managed to get your number…weird coincidence…"

But Mac didn't believe in coincidences anymore, not after the experiences she'd had.

'Or was it fate?' a little voice spoke up, inside her head.

"She sounded so scared, without any hope," Mac whispered, aloud, "I think she had resigned herself to her fate."

OOOO

The coroner told them as much when they went to see him that evening, with some unanswered questions.

"This is the nastiest thing I've ever seen," he told them, "Sure, I've seen blood and guts in the middle of a war zone, but not here. This is malicious, evil. Our girl was shot through the chest…you want me to actually show you? She's just in the back…"

"No," Harm and Mac both told him, quickly, a shudder passing through them both, "Just describe it to us, that'll be enough."

"Well, it's a wonder she could move at all," the man continued, "I don't know where she was shot, the blood trail leads right up to the fence around the base, but I'm surprised that she managed to get as far as she did. The bullet pierced her left lung and it had all but collapsed on her, sometime before. She was surviving mainly on what the right one could provide her with. She's pretty torn up too, I assume from trying to get away from her attacker. She's absolutely covered with bruises, mostly sustained before her death. Her right hand was stamped on, I'm told that a shattered cellphone was found in her hand. Her attacker must have wanted to stop her from calling for help. Whoever it was who did this had to have a huge amount of rage inside them. Our girl had something shoved inside her mouth, as I mentioned on the autopsy report. But not just to silence her. Actually, physically shoved in. I found a fragment of this material lodged in the space between two of her back molars. I've identified it as some kind of faux-leather.

Finally, there are bruises on her back, which look like knee marks. That is consistent with someone kneeling on her. She was struggling for breath so much that her pleural membrane ruptured, fluid poured into the pleural cavity and rendered her one good lung useless. Death followed within ten to twenty minutes, I'd say. "

"What an awful way to die," Mac muttered quietly, to herself.

"We were hoping that you could clear a couple of things up for us," Harm took the lead, "We weren't certain about a few details."

"I talked with the first investigator, I'll try to be as much help as possible," the man nodded.

OOOO

Over the next few minutes, Harm and Mac learned that it had been the first investigating officer at the scene who had left the sample of vomit behind. Harm and Mac couldn't say that they blamed him, it must have been a gruesome scene, when the body was still there and when the whole case touched a little too close to home for comfort as well. No wonder the man had asked to be removed from the case. Still, he had done a first-class job of making sure what little he had accomplished before his departure was all sorted and ready for them to review, together with little notes scribbled on the documents in question.

Also, it seemed that Cassandra Drake had not entered the base via the main security gate. They already knew that the officers on duty had not recorded her in the log-book.

"The blood trail led to a small gap in the fence around the base," the coroner informed them, "She obviously knew it was there, maybe she'd been through that way before."

"But why?" Harm questioned, aloud, "If she was friendly with a lot of people on the base, surely she could have gotten in through the main gate and gotten help from the officers on guard. Why go through a hole in the fence, when help is so nearby?"

"She might have been panicked," the coroner suggested.

"Or maybe the gap in the fence was closer?" Mac added, "If her attacker was close behind her, maybe she thought she could escape him that way…I wonder how big that gap is."

"We should check that out," Harm made a mental note, "But first of all, I want to speak to her father, Colonel Drake."

"He's not likely to be of much use to you," the coroner spoke up.

OOOO

Harm and Mac only found out exactly what he meant when they arrived at the commander's large, Victorian mansion on Brookfield Drive. They were greeted at the door by a tall, skinny man in a suit that suggested him to be the butler.

When they had showed him their id, he ushered them inside.

"I'm sorry, if you could just give me a couple of minutes, I'm afraid I must go and perform some urgent duties. Please excuse me, I'll be right back."

After that, he disappeared upstairs, presumably to take care of some household task or chore.

OOOO


	5. Chapter 5

OOOO

See part 1 for disclaimer.

Part 5…

"That's strange," Mac noted, quietly to Harm.

Harm just nodded and then they both began to unobtrusively look around. They didn't know if anyone else was present in the house, so they tried to check out the lower floor of the house as covertly as possibly. They needn't have worried, for the butler was gone for a good seven minutes and made plenty of noise on his way back.

"I do apologise," he told them, "but I was in the middle of tending to Colonel Drake. I am Timothy, Colonel Drake's carer and housekeeper."

"Yes," Harm informed Timothy, "My partner and I have been informed of your employer's condition. Admiral Basingstoke told us that you might be able to help us with some of our enquiries."

Timothy nodded his head, "Yes, it really is most terrible, what has happened to Miss Cassandra. I only saw her on the Sunday evening. She was going off to meet her friends…how something like this could happen! The world is a dangerous place, these days."

"Do you know much about Cassandra's friends, Timothy?" Mac spoke up, a tad impatient, "Or the other kids she went to school with. Were there any whom she was having problems with? Teenage squabbles?"

"No," Timothy shook his head, "I don't think so…I didn't know most of her friends by name, she had so many…But there was this one boy who I saw around her, a lot of the time. A very tall boy. I don't recall his name. I think he must have been on the school soccer or football team. I often saw him with a pair of studded sports boots; knotted at the laces and hung around his neck. I didn't like him…He seemed to be awfully interested in Miss Cassie."

"Did he ever seem to be threatening?" Harm had perked to attention when the man had started this line of thought, "Did Cassandra ever seem frightened or intimidated by his attention towards her."

"I couldn't tell," Timothy pondered, "Maybe…but she was such a friendly girl, she never shied away from anyone. I never knew her to utter a cross word to anybody."

"Would Cassandra's father know any of her friends?" Mac asked.

"He probably will," Timothy told them, "But there's no way the colonel could communicate with you. He's very ill. This has all come as such a blow to him. What little function he did still have swiftly left him when the police came to inform us about Miss Cassie, yesterday. You are welcome to accompany me upstairs, to see for yourself. I need to check that he is comfortable."

Harm and Mac nodded, indicating that they would like to meet the colonel, even if he wasn't able to tell them anything. They followed Timothy as he swiftly led them out of the living room, into the lobby of the house and, from there, up a grand staircase leading to the next floor. On the way up the stairs, Harm and Mac purposely held back a bit, so that they could get a look at the numerous photographs, which were lined along the wall, going up the stairs. They realised that they were almost exclusively of young Cassandra Drake, apart for a few who must be her mother, the late Mrs. Drake and of Colonel Drake, her terminally ill father. There were all of the usual photographs of trips to the beach, a school nativity play, ballet recitals and concerts, birthday parties, even a school photograph. But the one that got to Mac the most was depicting the young girl, eight or nine years of age, at some sort of family event. She was surrounded by other children, who all looked to be in states of manic excitement; perhaps it was a Christmas or birthday party. Cassandra Drake, however, was seated on the carpet in the middle of all of this chaos, leaning back on both arms, sedately looking towards the camera as if amused at finding herself the photographer's subject. The little girl's pretty, crystal-blue eyes smiled right out of the photograph. The look of calm serenity on her face caused a lump to form in the back of Mac's throat.

"Colonel Drake's room is just up here," Timothy stated the obvious, clearly to distract Harm and Mac from their perusal of the family photographs. They followed him without any further delay tactics. If they had thought that the rest of the house was orderly, then the master bedroom was absolutely spotless. In fact, the word that sprung to Harm's mind was 'sterile.' When he thought about it, it wasn't really that surprising, seeing as it had been converted into a hospital room to cater to the very specialist needs that Colonel Drake would need. After watching Timothy tend to the ailing, grey-skinned man with an oxygen mask over his face, in the bed, Harm and Mac's attention was attracted to the noise from the wide-screen television facing the bed. They both realised with a start that it was playing home video clips. The colonel, who was now asleep, must have been watching it before their arrival.

"Daddy! Daddy! Watch me!" the little girl shouted, excitedly from the large screen. She slid down a water slide to land with a splash in the pool at the bottom. Harm and Mac heard who they presumed to be the colonel, shouting applause. Cassandra couldn't have been any more than seven or so.

After this, the movie showed a very young Cassandra Drake seated on the carpet of the house's living room, watching cartoons on tv. A female voice called to her from outside the shot;

"Cassie, baby…Come and take this to Daddy for me."

The little girl got up and wandered over to couch, where the now-late Mrs. Drake was sitting. The woman looked fragile and Harm and Mac assumed that she was already ill at this stage. They had never found out what it was that the woman had succumb to. Perhaps they should, but would it really help with the investigation? Probably not...The child took the book from her mother, but dropped it, so bent over to retrieve the cumbersome, heavy object. Mac could see that little Cassie was still in diapers in this clip, so judged her to be between one and two years old. When the child had retrieved the book and carefully rearranged the pages right again, she toddled over towards the video camera. A masculine arm reached into the shot, taking the book from Cassie's hands and they heard Colonel Drake thank her.

"Thank you, darlin'. What would Daddy do without his good little girl, huh?"

Cassandra smiled shyly and then wandered back to her cartoon.

Next, they were watching a trip to the zoo in which the little girl was having her picture taken with a huge snake. She showed no revulsion at all as the heavy creature was draped around her and actually actively sought contact with it, holding the snake around its neck. (AN: do snakes have a neck? Where their neck would be, if the rest of them didn't also look like a neck! LOL!) After her picture was taken, she lifted the snake to her face then kissed it squarely between the eyes.

"Bye-bye, snakey…" she bid the creature, as her Father's loud laugh bellowed in the background.

Then, Cassandra's father was videotaping her running down the side of a lush, green hill. Mac thought that they must have been on a picnic, somewhere in the countryside. Cassandra was only about three or so and there was no sign of her mother, so the recording probably wasn't that long after the woman's death. The little girl was dressed in a little blue and white sun-dress, paired with white, lacy socks, white patent-leather shoes while her short blond hair was in pig-tails. As the child frolicked about, unaware, her father followed her every step, the shot sometimes going out of focus. But every time the focus was adjusted and the image became clear again, it served to show the two JAG officers just how beautiful this child was; how carefree she looked, unconcerned, despite the tragedy she had already been exposed to in her short life. And the injustice that was yet to come.

Harm and Mac only got a short look at the next clip on the video. It was a gymnastics competition that Cassandra was taking part in. The little girl, about nine or so, was in the corner of the floor arena closest to the camera, looking away to the opposite corner. She was dressed in a little purple leotard, which sparkled with sequins and her hair was pulled back into tight, gelled braids, which glinted with the glitter-spray that had been sprayed in. The music for her floor routine wafted about faintly in the background, but the excited hum of the crowd masked most of it. It built up to a crescendo then a barrage of calls came from the crowd in the spectator's stand and Cassandra's team-mates who were lined up along benches beside the floor arena.

"Go Cassie!" they shouted, excitedly, "Woo-hoo! Go Cassie!"

With only a second more of focus, little Cassandra took off across the vast expanse of floor in a run. The camera panned expertly along with her as she launched into an impressive tumble, a full lay-out, terminating with a somersault. The way the video camera was able to anticipate her every movement told Harm and Mac that Cassie's father knew her routine just as well as she did, knowing just how each skill was timed and how high each skill was carried out.

"I'm afraid Colonel Drake is fast asleep," Timothy spoke up quietly, as he muted then switched off the television, "Perhaps, if you'd be kind enough to leave a number where you can be reached, I can talk to the master in his own time and then inform you of anything he is able to tell me…I don't think that there is much he'll be able to tell me, though. He's barely able to swallow on his own, at this stage."

Harm and Mac nodded, silently, Harm taking out one of his business cards and handing it to the man.

"It's the bottom number which we can be reached at; the cellphone number. The Colonel and I were called here from out of town to investigate, so that is the only number we have, at the moment. Anytime you need to get hold of us, just give us a call."

Timothy nodded, from where he was adjusting the settings of the machine delivering the Colonel's intravenous medication and started to move away to show them out.

"That's okay," Mac halted him, "We can find the way out okay, ourselves. Just continue going about your duties."

The old man looked relieved and thanked them, before wheeling around a tray of sterile utensils. Harm and Mac didn't hang around any longer, making their way back towards the staircase.

"Well," Mac commented, "I guess, in a way, he's too out of it to suffer much over the death of his only child."

Harm nodded in agreement, adding, "And, in a way, it's better that she isn't here watching him waste away…"

Just as Harm said this, Mac's head shot around, towards the rooms at the far end of the hallway ahead of them.

Harm didn't notice that Mac had stopped until he reached the top of the stairs and she was no longer beside him. Looking back, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up when he saw Mac not too far behind him, standing stock-still, gazing intently further down the long hallway.

"Mac," he spoke up, beginning to get creeped-out, "What is it?"

It took a second, but eventually, she snapped to and looked back to him.

"Huh? Oh, nothing…just thought I saw…never mind."

With no further fuss, she caught up with him and from the look on her face, Harm would have never guessed that she'd even had the weird moment at all…If he hadn't have happened to have seen it with his own eyes. He went back to looking at the photos lining the wall, a step in front of Mac, while she turned her head back and gave a little smile, looking back in the direction she had come.

OOOO


	6. Chapter 6

OOOO

See part 1 for disclaimer.

Part 6…

"Alright, spill," Harm turned to her once they got back to their office at JAG headquarters, "What was that all about?"

"What do you mean?" Mac feigned innocence.

"You know what I mean," Harm insisted, "I know there was something going on back at the Colonel's house. What was it?"

Mac sighed, "Nothing…really. I just thought I saw something…"

"What do you mean by 'something'? Mac, you looked like you'd seen a ghost."

"It was just a shadow…or probably just my overactive imagination. That home movie on the Colonel's tv just made this case all too real for me, that's all. My mind has started playing tricks on me."

"Are you sure that was all it was?" Harm asked again.

"Not sure, no," Mac admitted, "but I don't have anything concrete to suggest otherwise. Like I said, it was just a shadow. But I felt…I don't know…so calm. At first it was unnerving. But then it was sort of comforting…"

"Do you think that it was your psychic side coming through again?" Harm asked.

"Harm, if you're going to start making fun of me for that, you can just get in line,

okay…" Mac started.

"No, Mac…No. You know I wouldn't. That side of you is a gift, a gift that saved my life, once. Without your visions… premonitions… whatever it is they are, I wouldn't be here now. My Mom wouldn't have even had anything left to bury, just like with my Dad. You know me better than to think I'd ridicule any aspect of who you are."

Mac's expression softened at this announcement.

"Okay," she conceded and sighed, "I honestly don't know what that was…I didn't want to say anything to you because I thought you'd…get freaked out."

"I'm not freaked out," Harm denied.

"Then why are the hairs on your arm standing up?" Mac asked him.

They both looked and found that it was indeed true.

"Okay, so I am a little creeped. But that has nothing to do with your visions and what is in them. It's more that all these things go on and you can see them all so clearly, yet I've never experienced anything remotely like that. How do you switch yourself onto that stuff?"

Mac just shrugged.

"I don't know," she replied, honestly, "I just happens when I least expect it. I have no idea how or when it started, it just did. Maybe it developed over time."

"Maybe," Harm nodded, "Anyway, I think we should take a trip out onto the base, to take

a look at that hole in the fence."

"Yeah," Mac nodded, "There's not much else we can do today, seeing as we have to wait to talk to Cassandra's classmates."

Harm nodded and they made their way out.

"Brookfield Drive is that way," Mac noted, "So is the school."

They were outside the military base, at the hole in the fence, which they had ordered left as evidence in an on-going investigation.

"But why would she be coming from school that early?" Harm asked.

"Some school teams run around that time," Mac pointed out, "I used to be on my school swim team and we trained early, before school started. We'll find out more about Cassandra's particular movements on that day, once we get to speak to her friends. But for now, we have to assume that she was coming here from the direction of Brookfield. Do you have any idea how far it is?"

Harm estimated, "Maybe a half a mile or so. Not that far."

"But she was struggling from the gunshot wound," Mac added.

"Yeah," Harm nodded, "That's probably when she phoned you, sounding out of breath. Her killer could have been close behind her. Do you reckon that anyone other than a young teenage girl could have gotten under this wire?"

"They'd have to be pretty skinny… or skilled," Mac shook her head, "Maybe if they were an athlete, or somebody in the military…But they'd have to be slim, too. Cassandra probably was, being only fifteen and a member of the gymnastics team and cheerleading squad."

"There's no trace evidence caught on the fence," Harm noted, "Maybe the killer didn't get in via the fence…we should get the full list of all people coming on base, on the Sunday night/ Monday morning."

Mac nodded in agreement.

"How about interviewing the corporals who were on guard again?" she suggested, "If Cassandra's killer lives on-base, there's a chance he or she might have been able to by-pass having their name recorded in the log-book."

"We should do that," Harm agreed.

They called in the two lance corporals who had been on guard duty at the base entrance again.

"I can't tell you how important it is that you two tell us the truth," Mac impressed upon the two young men, " A fifteen year old girl is dead and every single person in the JAG office wants justice to be served. Did you let anyone in who shouldn't have been here? Was there anyone visiting who didn't have their name recorded in the log book?"

Both men quickly shook their heads again.

"I swear, Ma'am, if their names aren't in that log-book, they didn't get onto this base," the first young officer said.

"We take our duty very seriously, Ma'am," the other added, "Even if it's just a short trip onto the base, everyone is checked and their presence is recorded; the exact time they come in and the exact time that they leave."

Harm and Mac both looked at the list of names and times, taken from the log-book.

There was no Cassandra Drake, no name that didn't belong to an officer. The only way that Cassandra or any of her schoolmates would have gotten onto the base would be through the hole in the fence.

Mac shot Harm a look that told him, "This is going to make our job harder."

Harm nodded.

"Did Cassandra often come on base while either of you were on-duty?" he asked the lance corporals.

"Not often," they both replied, one adding, "She sometimes came to visit Admiral Basingstoke. The Admiral liked to be kept informed of the colonel's condition. Sometimes the Admiral's daughter Gemma came with her. But they were always logged in and out. Always. They knew the routine and they respected it."

"Do you know why Cassandra would have snuck on-base through a hole in the perimeter fence?" Mac asked them.

"Is that how she got in, Ma'am?" one man asked.

Mac just nodded, "That is our preliminary conclusion."

"As far a I know, Ms. Drake never had any trouble getting onto the base. She was well known and liked by everyone here. It just makes no sense that she'd have to sneak in."

"Ma'am?" the other man asked, "Just where in the fence was this break? That fence is regularly checked and maintained."

"Just behind the firing ranges," Mac told them.

"Well, Ma'am," the man told them, "I'm sure that point would be a more direct route for her than through the gates. Is it possible that she was in a rush?"

"That is one of the possibilities that we have considered, corporal," Harm told him, "But at this stage, we don't know which direction Ms. Drake was coming from."

After that, the officers were dismissed.

Harm had another sort through the phone records.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, "Now this makes sense! At 0615, Cassandra made a call to her best friend, Gemma Basingstoke. It wasn't answered, which I'm assuming is because Gemma was still asleep and didn't hear it. She tried again a few minutes later. This time it was picked up and the call lasted for 25 seconds. Mac, Gemma Basingstoke's phone number is almost identical to yours. Look, there's just a few number different. The second time she called, Cassandra she got the number wrong and called you instead of calling the Admiral's daughter."

"So she called me by accident," Mac concluded, "I guess that's another thing that makes sense. We're starting to make progress on this case. Now we just need to find out more about Cassandra's movements during last Sunday."

OOOO


	7. Chapter 7

My apologies for the short chapter I posted last time...Sometimes there's only one logical place to cut the story off. But this chapter is longer.

My thanks also go to the wonderful readers who chose to leave great reviews! I really appreciate you taking the time!

So, on with the story! Enjoy...

See part 1 for disclaimer...

Part 7

They managed to make more progress on the Thursday. They spoke to many of Cassandra's classmates, who all described how they had been shocked to hear of her death. Most of them were still pretty upset, so Harm and Mac had to take it easy with them. But they managed to put together a timeline of Cassandra's usual movements.

In the morning, Cassandra usually left her home at 05.30. This was routine on a Monday morning, because the gymnastics team got in a training session, before classes started at 0800. The team congregated in the school gymnasium at 0610 and trained until 0740, leaving the students just enough time to get showered and changed before classes started. But Cassandra hadn't turned up that morning. Somehow, she had passed the school, continued towards the base and ended up on the other side of the fence, on the firing range. Why would she run towards the military base, instead of the school?

It proved to be a hard puzzle to solve, until they got to interview one young boy who fit Timothy's description of the boy hanging around Cassandra a lot.

Jeremy Baker, a final year student and a member of the gymnastics team, like Cassandra, approached Harm and Mac once his classes were over. He had a pair of studded sports boots around his neck, like Timothy the carer/housekeeper had described.

"Ma'am, Sir?" he knocked on the open door just as Harm and Mac were packing their papers up to leave, "I heard you were interviewing people about Cassie's…murder."

The young man looked distinctly uneasy saying the last word aloud.

"Yes, that's right…who are you, son?" Harm asked.

"Jeremy, Sir…Jeremy Baker. I knew Cassie from gym team. I was wondering if there's anything I can do to help you catch the person who did this?"

Harm and Mac invited him in.

"We're glad that you came to find us," Mac told him, "Is it okay if we interview you? We were about to pack up for the day. But if we can get this done, now, even better."

Jeremy nodded in the affirmative.

"How old are you, Jeremy?" Harm asked him.

"Sixteen, Sir," the boy told him, "Well, nearly…next month."

Once they had determined that the boy had no reservations about them interviewing him,

Jeremy told them something, which built upon what they knew, so far.

"Cassie was going to meet me," he told them, "Even though she has to go out of her way to come and meet me, she usually did, unless she was running late and there wasn't time. She was planning to when I spoke to her on Sunday. Only, when I got to the place where we usually meet, she wasn't there."

"What time was that?" Mac asked.

"Around 5 minutes before 6 0'clock. Practice starts at 10 minutes past 6, so I thought she was just running late and that she'd just gone straight to there. Only, when I got there, she hadn't turned up."

"Why does Cassie come and meet you, if it takes her out of her way?" Harm asked.

The boy just shrugged, "I don't know…I kind of…like…Cassie and I think she could tell. We got talking at one meet and she walked home with me that day, as far as the base. She said she was going in there anyway, to pick up some stuff from her Dad's office. The next week, before practice, I was just walking to school along the same route and she was there…I guess I never really questioned it. She just seemed to like meeting up with me."

I light bulb went on inside Mac's head.

"Jeremy, your walk to school takes you past the military base?"

"Yeah, my house isn't far from it, why?" he replied.

"And if Cassie was coming to meet you that morning, she'd have to walk away from the school and towards the base?"

"Uh-huh…But she wasn't there when I got to the base. We always meet along the fence behind the shooting range. She didn't turn up. I had to leave by a couple of minutes after 6, otherwise I'd be late for practice."

"How tall are you, Jeremy?" Mac asked.

"Six-two."

"And your favourite apparatus is?"

"The rings, Ma'am."

"Have you ever been onto the military base, Jeremy?"

"Just once, Ma'am. A while back, over a year ago. Cassie managed to get a bunch of tickets to watch the military band performing. She was standing in as mascot and I got passed a ticket through a friend of a friend….that was the first time I noticed Cassie. I was just new to the school and the gymnastics team and didn't know a lot of people. But my friend passed me this ticket and I went to watch out of interest."

A sad smile came across his face.

"Cassie looked real good that day…even with that bulky costume on! She nailed all of her tumbles."

Harm and Mac shared a knowing look.

Once Jeremy Baker had been thanked and excused, Mac came to one conclusion; Jeremy Baker could not have killed Cassandra Drake.

"There is no way that a boy that size could get through that hole in the fence," she summarised to Harm.

"Why not?" he asked her.

"It would be hard enough to get the length of him through the hole in the fence, let alone his upper body."

Being an athlete, Jeremy had a bulky upper body, which was probably why he favoured the rings in gymnastics. A man had to have immense upper-body strength if they were to perform on such an apparatus.

"But gymnasts are skilled," Harm pointed out, "He might have been able to."

"I really don't think so," Mac shook her head, "and he couldn't have gotten over the razor wire across the top."

They both agreed to disagree.

"I think we should go and see the Admiral," Mac told Harm, "His daughter Gemma wasn't at school today and as a friend of Cassandra's I think anything she might have to tell us would be valuable."

Harm just nodded and they were off back to the base.

OOOO

The Admiral granted them their interview, but requested that they be gentle with his daughter, as she was still in an extremely fragile state over the death of her best friend.

That was why she had been absent from school.

"Gemma?" Mac asked her, softly, "Would it be alright if we had a word with you?"

The girl was curled up at home, on her bed. The tv was playing and Harm and Mac could see that it was a recording of a cheerleading meet, probably filmed within the last year. Teary eyed, Gemma Basingstoke slowly nodded her head.

"We're so sorry about what happened to your friend," Harm told her, "but we want to catch the person who has done this, so they can't hurt anyone else. If we could understand more about what had been going on in Cassie's life, we might come across this person. Do you know of anyone who would have cause to hurt Cassie?"

The girl shook her head.

"No," she told them, croakily, "everybody loves Cassie. She's never had an argument with anyone…I can't believe she's gone…"

The Admiral, who was sitting in on the interview moved to take her hand.

"Has anyone been showing any particular interest in Cassie, lately? Officers from the base, boys from school?"

Gemma looked up.

"Um, Cassie was pretty into a boy from school. He liked her too, I think, but he seems a really nice guy…I don't think he'd ever do something like this. I don't know how anyone could..."

"What is this boy's name?" Mac already had a good idea who it was.

"Jeremy," the girl replied, "I think his surname is Baker."

"Do you know of anyone else?"

"No…but Cassie had been experiencing some…tension on the gym team. It never used to be so competitive, but since Lisa Baron joined, Cassie's been on edge sometimes. Even though Cassie was under a bit of pressure, she really was never in it just to win. She always preferred the team events."

"Was this girl actually giving Cassie any trouble?" Mac asked.

"Not exactly," Gemma told them, "But Cassie said she seemed to be trying to compete with her, even in training sessions. She was trying to land more difficult moves, make them higher, faster and better timed. Cassie never took the bait, though, she couldn't have cared less about it."

"Was Lisa Baron ever hostile towards Cassie in front of you?"

"No, it was more cold indifference that I saw from her. She has a…reputation amongst the people in our year."

"She's not very popular?" Harm questioned.

"Not really, Sir," Gemma hesitated, but after a nod from her Father, she continued to tell them what she knew, "She has a nick-name; um…fugly…fugly skank."

Harm shot Mac a questioning look. He'd never heard that one from Mattie, but seeing as it was probably very derogatory, he figured he should probably be glad that he hadn't.

Mac shot him a look that told him she'd explain it later.

"Did Cassie ever call her that?"

"No! Never…She said that it was a really mean thing to say."

"Gemma," Mac continued, "when was the last time you heard from Cassie, before she died?"

Gemma dropped her gaze and looked quite stricken.

"I last talked to Cassie on Sunday, at cheerleading practice…" she choked out, "But she called me on Monday morning…I was still asleep, I didn't realise…"

"Did she tell you about any problems she was having?" Harm quickly steered the conversation away from the emotional topic of Cassie's call on the morning of her death.

"No, she seemed to be as happy as ever…even with her Dad so sick, she always managed to be so upbeat."

"Gemma, we need to ask you about the times that you and Cassie went onto the military base…" Mac spoke up.

"Yeah," Gemma nodded, "Okay."

"Did you two ever get in any other way than through the gate?"

Gemma didn't at first understand.

"How do you mean?" she asked.

"Did the two of you ever get in through gaps in the fence?"

"No, never!" Gemma vehemently shook her head, "If we'd have been caught, it would have gotten our Dads into so much trouble. We always went through the gates. We knew most of the people who stood guard. They were pretty nice to us."

"Had Cassie been going on-base a lot, lately?"

"Not really," the girl shook her head, "She used to, to collect work for her Dad to do at home. But he's been so bad, lately, he's just not able to work anymore…Is Cassie's Dad okay?"

"Not really," Harm told her, "But we're confident he's not too aware about what has happened."

"Thank goodness," Gemma spoke, more to herself than to the other people in her room, "It's all so hard to understand..."

After that, they left and went back to their lodgings for the day, to look over what they'd collected so far, that day.

OOOO

AN: I'm afraid I may be caught up in pesky RL tomorrow (job interviews and friends visiting.) I'll post another chapter shortly, just to tide you over until I get the chance to post again!


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry, this is just a repost. I noticed some typos in my last post and I forgot that this thing doesn't display symbols...( I'm a perfectionist. Can you tell?) Will post next part pronto, as job interviews went well, caught up with old friends and still have some free time (Oh, happy day!)

OOOO

See part 1 for disclaimer.

Part 8

"So, you still haven't told me, Mac," Harm spoke up over dinner, "What exactly does the term 'fugly skank' mean? I'm guessing it isn't nice."

Mac just blushed, slightly.

"C'mon!" Harm laughed, "Surely it can't be that bad."

"Well," Mac noted, "I'd never use it myself, that's for sure!"

"And?" Harm questioned.

"Well, 'fugly' is just short for 'f-ing ugly' and 'skank' basically means the person is repulsive, no better than trash."

"Oo," Harm winced, "Harsh!"

"Yeah," Mac nodded, "Teenagers can be a mean breed."

"Not the teenager I know!" Harm exclaimed, "Mattie'd never say anything like that."

"She would hardly say it in front of you," Mac gave him a scornful look, "C'mon Harm, I'm sure she gets up to a lot of stuff you don't know about!"

"She does not!" Harm huffed indignantly, "She's a good kid."

"So was Cassandra Drake," Mac pointed out, "But don't make the mistake of thinking that you know about everything going on in her life…"

"I do," Harm maintained.

"Whatever…" Mac left the subject at that.

Harm shifted about in his seat.

"I do," he mumbled, not able to sit still.

He was silent for a minute, then asked, "I do, don't I?"

Mac couldn't help the soft smile that played across her face.

"Harm, you probably don't even know the half of it," she broke, softly, adding, "But I know she's a good, sensible kid, Harm. I'm sure that she doesn't get up to half the stuff I did…some of the stuff I used to get up to! Whew!"

Harm just groaned, "I don't want to know, Mac! Please, I'd like to remain in ignorant bliss."

"You have to face reality sometime," Mac told him, "Anyway, as I was saying, teenagers are teenagers. You never know what is going on in their lives. I can't help but think that we're missing something. Everyone says that she was a great kid, that she didn't have an enemy in the world. But somebody must have disliked her, because they murdered her."

"So you're thinking that she was involved in more than anyone will admit?" Harm surmised.

"Perhaps," Mac nodded, "But we've just got to find somebody who will tell us what it is."

"I'm surprised Gemma didn't," Harm noted, "She seemed to be telling us the truth. Cassandra was her best friend, surely she'd tell us if Cassie had been in some kind of trouble?"

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking, too," Mac nodded in agreement, "My gut instinct is that she didn't know if there was something going on. But if you don't tell your best friend, who do you tell?"

Harm just shook his head, clueless.

OOOO

Harm and Mac knew that the secret probably lay with somebody at the school, Cassie spent the majority of her time away from home there or with classmates. They interviewed endless numbers of students, but the school principal was getting impatient with them. He wanted their investigation wrapped up, the kids had important studies to get back to and disruption was something that they didn't need right now, on top of the turmoil of losing a classmate.

"With all due respect, sir, we're going to need more than a day…" they protested.

"I'm giving you two and no more," the strict man told them, "Please, understand that while I have no greater wish than for Cassie's killer to be caught, but I have the well-being of all these kids to think about."

"We understand that, Sir," Harm reasoned, "But we have every reason to think that the key to this case lies with somebody in this school. Cassie had to have told somebody what was going on in her life."

"She was a teenager, Sir," Mac added, "You know better than we do that her peers would have been the most important people in her life."

"Maybe," the man nodded, sharply, "But I'll allow you _three_ more days then I want you to leave these kids alone. They've been through enough over the past few days. After that, it has to stop."

Harm and Mac let out a sigh as they nodded. It looked like three days were as good as they were going to get.

OOOO

The three days passed without incident. They got some more information about the other kids at the school who had involvement with Cassandra Drake. In the end, they had two suspects, one strong but the other quite weak.

"Jeremy Baker," Harm summarised the evidence, "Not very probable, seeing as he had to make it back to school in time for practice. His coach saw him at five past seven, just inside the school doors and without a mark on him. Also, he didn't really have much motive to harm Cassie Drake, he liked her and friends describe the sentiment as being mutual…"

Mac nodded and took over, "Lisa Baron, a more probable suspect. She's on the gymnastics team, a competitor of Cassie's. The team coach described the relationship between them as tense and strained, at least from Lisa Baron's point of view. He said Cassie didn't seem to have much of an opinion on the Baron girl. But Cassie was on the senior team, Lisa Baron was on the junior team. Not much separated them in terms of skill, but Cassie just had the edge. With Cassie out of the way, Lisa Baron would have no problem making the more elite team. With that came access to more senior competitions and titles. Also, I was thinking, when we passed the trophy cabinet in the school, where several of Cassie's title trophies are displayed, I think I saw a flicker of something on Lisa's face. And again when we walked past Jeremy. Do you think that there was some more tension there?"

"Could have been," Harm nodded, "If Lisa Baron saw Cassie as a competitor in more than just the gymnastics team then she could have just snapped. But where would a fifteen-year-old girl get a hand-gun? And would she have the strength to do all that damage?"

Mac just shrugged, "I don't know…gymnasts are strong, they have to be, it's a high-strain, high-impact sport."

Harm and Mac had already investigated into the possibility that one of the teenagers could have brought the handgun in from home, but neither the Baker nor the Baron family owned one. Neither did Colonel Drake.

All of this brought Harm and Mac back to the military base.

They set about securing permission to search the personal belongings of some of the officers on-base. They were about to start the search the next afternoon, but were not able to, as they received a call from Colonel Drake's carer, Timothy.

"Hello? Colonel MacKenzie speaking…" Mac answered Harm's cellphone, as he had disappeared for a bathroom break.

"We need to get going," Mac informed Harm, when he came back, a few minutes later, "We've been called back to Brookfield Drive."

They quickly secured a ride out to the Colonel's home.

OOOO

"Thank you for coming so promptly," Timothy opened the door to them, ten minutes later, "things have been getting much worse since you were last here. I think that this might be the last chance for you to get something concrete out of Colonel Drake."

"Has he said anything that may help us, yet?" Harm questioned.

"I got a list of Miss Cassie's friends from him, last night," Timothy handed them a long list of names on notepaper. Each one was labelled with how Cassandra knew the individual, whether they were a close friend, an acquaintance through classes or a friend of a friend.

"This is very helpful, thank-you, Sir," Mac told him, "There seems to be a lot of detail here…"

"The Colonel's decline started early this morning," Timothy hastily added, "I called for emergency assistance at eight o'clock."

Harm and Mac saw just how grave the Colonel's condition was when they entered his room. They ailing old man had an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, and his breathing was severely laboured. Timothy led them over to his bed and introduced them and Harm and Mac then set about asking the man about some of the individuals named on the notepaper. He shook or nodded his head to some of the questions, but was unable to give them any more detail than that. In the end, it was obvious that the man was tiring.

"Thank you for all of your help, Colonel," they both thanked him, promising, "We'll get the person responsible for this."

The man just nodded, tiredly and lay his head back against the pillows. Before they left, Mac looked back and saw a lone tear roll down the poor man's cheek. They met Timothy on the staircase, where he was mechanically dusting the family photographs.

"Thank you, Sir," Harm and Mac thanked him too, "That should be all…we were able to get some helpful information about Cassie's acquaintances. Colonel Drake seems to be very tired, so we thought it best that we leave him to get some rest."

Timothy just nodded.

"Yes, he's tiring very easily, lately. But it's only getting worse, as time goes on."

"How long ago was Colonel Drake diagnosed?" Mac asked him.

"Not long after Cassandra was born," he told them, "He'd been feeling a little bit shaky, but didn't think that it was anything serious. This was just before Mrs. Drake's cancer was diagnosed as terminal, so it was a very bad time for them, after the happy time when Miss Cassandra was born. I was employed soon after; they were worried about how it would all affect the child. They thought that, when something eventually happened to them, it would be better if Miss Cassandra was cared for by somebody she'd had time to grow close to. Mrs. Drake struggled on for just under two years, and it was the fifteenth anniversary of Colonel's Drake's diagnosis last September."

"And Miss Drake would have come under your care, in the event of her Father's death?" Mac questioned, gently.

"Yes," Timothy answered, sombrely, "the Colonel and the late Mrs. Drake set up a trust fund for her and this house would have passed to her, also."

"And now?" Harm asked.

"I really have no idea," Timothy told them, "Colonel Drake never told me. I don't handle his legal affairs. That task belongs to Admiral Basingstoke, at JAG headquarters."

That was Harm and Mac's next port of call.

OOOO

"Sir," Harm and Mac came to attention in his office, "we were wondering if we could ask you a couple of questions concerning Colonel Drake's legal affairs?"

They learned from the admiral that nothing had been settled concerning the colonel's legal belongings, in the event of Cassandra's death.

"It just never seemed to be a possibility," he told them, "It was a given that when the colonel died, his only daughter and sole heir would inherit the lot. But if Cassie died? I don't know, we never considered it. Why would a fifteen-year-old girl die before her terminally ill father? I don't even know where the colonel's legal will is. It was in his possession, the last time I saw."

"And Timothy, the carer?" Harm asked.

"I'm sure that he'd have been provided for. He was to look after Cassie, when anything happened to the commander. He's been an trusted friend of the colonel's since the colonel met him during active duty."

"Timothy is military, too?" Mac exclaimed, surprised.

"He was," the admiral nodded, "He retired in his twenties, after his wife and children were killed in a car accident. But he and the colonel kept in touch. When the colonel and his wife were both diagnosed with terminal illness, Timothy came to help out for some time, as he was in the business of caring for the terminally ill. At first just meant to be while the family came to terms with the news and got back onto their feet. But then Colonel and Mrs. Drake asked him to stay, seeing as he got on so well with Cassandra. Timothy said that she reminded him of his own daughters. At the time, Cassie was the same age as his youngest child had been, when the accident took her life."

"So you know Timothy very well, Sir?" Harm asked.

"I'd say so, yes," the admiral nodded, "He is very dedicated to his job, to the family, to his old friend and employer. He once told me that taking care of Cassandra and her father gave him a reason to live again."

Harm and Mac nodded with sympathy. The man seemed to be handling his young charge's death well, but then again, he still had a responsibility to his old friend and employer.

OOOO

The next day, Harm and Mac completed their searches of the officer's belongings and came up with many interesting leads. Almost every officer they checked out owned a leather jacket, some of them a pair of leather gloves, too. It was standard in most wardrobes really, but it would take them a while to check whether any of it was faux-leather and more time still to check if any was identical to the item used to gag Cassandra Drake. It was as they opened the last locker on the row, belonging to Private John Kruger, that they did come across something even more interesting. It was a newspaper article, stuck to the inside of the door, detailing the arrest and trial of a teenage boy, who had drunkenly stolen a military officer's car and had driven it into the front window of a flower shop on main-street. Harm and Mac noticed straight away who the young offender was; 'Johnny Kruger,' at the time seventeen years old. What was more interesting was who the officer prosecuting on behalf of the military officer was; 'Colonel James Drake.'

I think we need to get Private Kruger in to talk to us again," Harm and Mac said at the same time, smiling at each other.

OOOO


	9. Chapter 9

See part 1 for disclaimer…

Part 9

"I know what you're thinking, but it's really not what it seems," Kruger told them, when faced by the evidence, "Colonel Drake helped me. If it weren't for him, I'd probably be dead by now…I was on a path of self-destruction."

"You weren't angry at him?" Mac asked him.

"Maybe at the time, but once I'd had chance to get my head right, no," Kruger maintained.

"How do you mean 'get your head right'?" Harm asked.

"I've been in cognitive-behavioural therapy for years, now," the young man admitted without shame, "It's helped me put my problems in the past and carry on with my life. But I keep that article in my locker to remind me of how far I've come, since then."

Later on, after the interview, Mac asked Harm, "You believe him?"

Harm just shrugged.

"Maybe he is telling the truth; people can turn themselves around," Mac commented, she knew a lot about that herself, "But then again, maybe he's just a good actor."

Harm nodded, considering both possibilities, "It does seem rather random to kill the child of the person you bear a grudge against. But then again, he may feel as if Drake stole his teenage years. Perhaps he wanted Drake to see how it felt."

"But Drake was so sick he could barely comprehend what had happened," Mac pointed out.

"Kruger might not have known about the Colonel's precarious health status," Harm pointed out, "Or, we could be looking at the wrong person."

"Is anybody else on our list?" Mac asked.

"How about the carer?" Harm suggested.

"He was probably going to get money, anyway, when the colonel died," Mac replied, "What could he possibly have to gain by killing Cassie Drake?"

Harm mulled it over, then concluded, "I know, most people have described her as being like a daughter to him. That makes no sense either."

That left them with only the two suspects and a monumental case of frustration.

OOOO

Mac had very bizarre dreams, that night. Perhaps it was the stress, perhaps the coffee that she had before going to bed. Whatever it was, Mac knew that she definitely wouldn't be repeating it the next night.

In her dream, she was following closely behind Cassandra Drake, across the fields of the airbase, behind the shooting range. Strangely, Cassandra was wearing a pair of brown leather gloves. As they got further across the field, the wind picked up and blew Cassandra's hair around, the blondstreaks catching the sunlight. Asher hairwhipped about her face, the girl turned to look at Mac, poignantly.

Suddenly, Jeremy Baker appeared from behind her, taking each of her hands and pulling the leather gloves off, kissing each of her hands in turn and dropping the gloves to the ground. Then the two teenagers were gone and all that was left was a pair the leather gloves, lying in the grass. Mac woke up in a sweat.

"Whew!" she thought, "No more coffee before bed for me, in future."

OOOO

The next day passed without smoothly, until lunchtime. They returned to the Drake household, hoping to ask Timothy some more questions. Unfortunately, he was extremely busy with tending to Colonel Drake, who was now gravely ill.

So, they would have to save their questions for another day. The questions related to some of Cassie's friends and schoolmates, whom they were no longer allowed to question. But if Timothy could give some more information on them, they might be able to uncover something concrete. So, they left, only to receive a call from Cassandra's principal to inform them that Jeremy Baker had not turned up for school that morning. A call had been placed to his parents, who insisted that Jeremy had set off, meaning to go to school, but had somehow not made it there. It seemed to make no sense, as Jeremy had football practice after school. He missed that too, something previously unheard of.

OOOO

The day after that was Cassandra Drake's funeral service, so their investigation was suspended for the day. They wanted to pay their respects at the funeral and most people involved with the case would probably also be there. They didn't manage to make it into the church, because it was so packed with mourners, so they stood outside the church, along the sidewalk, with many of the kids from Cassie's school and paid their respects as the coffin in the hearse passed by. The atmosphere was very emotionally charged, so Harm and Mac decided to give the case a break for the rest of the day. Once the service inside the church was over, Cassie's principal came out with a large envelope and explained that, in light of what most people thought that Cassie would want, there would be few flowers at the graveside. Instead, he explained, it was asked that any donations be made towards MS Research, instead. Harm and Mac thought that it was a thoughtful sentiment. After that, everyone in the church filed out, the coffin was carried out by pall-bearers and loaded back into the hearse. As it pulled away at a slow speed, a long line formed behind it, to accompany it to the nearby cemetery. Harm and Mac knew that it was unlikely that they would make it to the graveside service either. Later that evening, as many people still made their way to the recently filled-in graveside and left flowers, Harm and Mac did the same. It seemed appropriate under the tragic circumstances.

OOOO

Mac dreamed again that night. This time, she was in the Drake household, in the master bedroom. Cassandra was seated at her father's bedside and was holding his hand. With her free hand, she lovingly stroked the hair back from the prematurely aged face. Then, she halted and turned to look straight at Mac. A tear rolled down one cheek as, again, a strong wind began to blow. Mac never questioned the fact that a strong breeze was blowing inside the house, it seemed to make perfect sense in this dream. Cassandra was mouthing something loudly, but over the breeze, Mac could not hear it. The wind was whipping Cassandra's words away from her before they were barely out of Cassandra's mouth.

OOOO

The next day, they were called and informed that Colonel James Drake had passed away during the night.

"It was expected," Admiral Basingstoke told them, "We didn't expect that he'd survive long without his daughter. He was in a fragile enough condition to begin with. Cassie's death just accelerated things. But because the death occurred in the home, a post-mortem and autopsy will be performed by this evening. I'll make sure you get the results once they come through."

They both thanked the admiral for his help, before placing a call to General Cresswell. After informing him of what little progress they had made over the next few days, they informed him of Colonel Drake's death. They could tell that he was not happy about the state the case was in, but the man did not actually come out and say it.

Afterwards, Mac told Harm about the dreams she had had the previous two nights and how much they were now disturbing her.

"So, when you had your more recent one, it seemed to involve the Colonel and Cassie was trying to tell you something?" he asked, his voice neutral.

"Yes," Mac nodded.

"And in the first one, she disappeared along with Jeremy Baker?"

Mac nodded again.

"Do you think he's dead, like Cassie's father?"

"I don't know…"

She hadn't thought of that.

"Do you think your dreams were predicting death?"

Mac didn't really want to hear this right now, maybe she had already considering the possibility unconsciously, and she was especially disturbed by hearing it said aloud. To hear it from Harm's mouth just plainscared her.

"I don't know," she replied softly, shaking her head, as if the banish the thought.

OOOO

Sure enough, they got a call the next morning to tell them that Jeremy Baker had been found dead in the nearby woods, by his own hand. He had been dead since the day he had disappeared.

"This just keeps getting worse and worse," Mac softly shook her head.

At least, she thought to herself, she had not had any dreams the night before. That was a positive sign.

"The sheriff said that Jeremy left a note," Harm filled Mac in, "But not claiming responsibility for Cassandra's murder. It simply said that he couldn't live without her, that he couldn't face her funeral. He asked that we find the person who did this to her."

"So does that rule him out?" Mac asked.

"Technically, no," Harm pondered, "The sheriff still thinks it's possible. Apparently Timothy has told him that Jeremy was apparently expressing a lot of unhealthy interest in Cassandra, which he believes she didn't return. Maybe Jeremy snapped and killed her when she confronted him…"

"But if he were the killer, why not confess?" Mac insisted, "Why still hide it? He knew he was going to die and that it was unlikely that anyone was going to find him in time. He hanged himself in the middle of the woods."

Harm nodded in consideration, adding, "But this means that we're going to have to think about all of this again…"

OOOO

Later that night, they were still no closer, so they went out and got dinner, before returning to the case.

Harm had had a thought while they had been out of their quarters.

"I think we need to find that will," he told Mac, "I can't help but think that it is a loose end that we need to tie off."

"Okay," Mac nodded, "So, we go and do that, first thing tomorrow morning."

OOOO

Despite the night of respite from her unnerving dreams, Mac again dreamt of the house on Brookfield Drive. The front door was open and as Mac was making her way up the drive, Cassandra appeared at the door. Approaching the front steps, Mac looked upwards, towards the girl, seeking permission to enter. In answer, Cassie held her hand out to her. Without a word, Mac climbed the stairs, took the proffered hand and followed her as Cassandra led her inside. They walked through the front lobby, up the grand staircase and past all of the family photographs. Mac noticed that now there were a lot more of Colonel Drake. The only person who was missing from this scene was Timothy, who was nowhere to be seen, either in the pictures on the wall or in the rest of the lobby. Mac's unconscious registered this as peculiar, as he had been living as almost a member of the family, since before the late Mrs. Drake's death, nearly fourteen years before. When they reached the top of the stairs, Cassie ledher to the left and down the hallway where Mac's attention had been pulled, on their first visit here.

"Was it you who I saw that day?" Mac asked Cassandra.

Cassandra didn't say anything, but nodded, with a smile.

"You wanted me to see something?" Mac asked again.

Cassandra smiled and nodded again.

"Okay," Mac consented, "Take me and show me. I promise, I'm listening now."

Cassandra took them down the hall, to the second to last door, on the right-hand side. As she entered through the door, Mac realised that Cassandra was no longer with her. She looked back towards the hall, but Cassandra was not there, either.

"Cassie?" Mac asked and turned back to look in front of her. Cassie was standing at a large bureau pulling open the drawers.

Without questioning how she had managed to get there before her, Mac crossed the large study to join Cassie where she was standing. Cassandra shut all of the drawers again, but one, the second from the top and looked back to Mac, urgently.

"What is it?" Mac asked and peered into the drawer.

Cassandra just looked at her, expectantly. Mac caught sight of a pair of leather gloves inside the drawer, then realised that there was something underneath them. She lifted the gloves out and placed them on top of the bureau then reached in and lifted out a single sheet of paper, which was rolled up and tied with a piece of purple ribbon. Mac had some idea what it was.

"Is this what we're looking for?" she asked the girl peering intently over her shoulder.

Cassandra nodded.

"And this will lead us to the person who took your life?"

Cassandra nodded, but seemed to consider something else. She again took Mac's hand and pulled her away from the bureau. Mac quickly put the roll of paper back in the drawer where she had found it, then followed along behind Cassandra. They went into the room across the hall.

As soon as they entered, Mac knew that it was Cassandra's room. It was a mix of styles, partially that of a maturing young woman, but still retaining elements of her childhood. There was an old cross-stitch sampler, framed on the wall. Mac realised that it must have been completed by Cassandra's mother, probably soon after her child's birth.

"Cassandra Lorraine Drake," it announced, "Born 2:07pm, Saturday 15th May, 1989. Weighing 6lbs 12oz."

Various items around the room suggested that her mother had still held an important influence over her daughter's life, right up to the young girl's death; more cross-stitched samplers, old photographs of the two of them together, some old-fashioned ornaments, bedraggled, old teddy bears and a small, pristine-condition pocket bible; its white cover fancy and embroidered. Obviously, Mrs. Drake had been very skilled at arts and crafts.

"Did your mother leave this to you?" Mac asked Cassandra, softly, as she traced the lace that trimmed the edges of the cover. When she didn't get any answer, she looked up and searched the room. She found Cassandra over by the bookcase, along the opposite wall.

As Mac crossed over and joined Cassandra, she saw the girl walk her fingers over the top of the lined-up books, one at a time.

'One, two, three, four, five, six, seven,' she unconsciously counted in her mind.

"What is it?" Mac asked Cassandra, "What are you trying to show me?"

Cassandra looked back at her, then moved aside so that Mac could move in and take a better look at what she had been looking at. Mac saw nothing that jumped out at her, just a book with a light-blue cover and spine, with no title or author marked along the spine. Mac counted across from the left hand side again; 'One, two, three, four, five six, seven…Yep, that's the book…'

Mac got the fright of her life when she turned back and looked over her shoulder, but found that Cassandra was againno longer there.

"Cassandra?" Mac questioned, aloud, her voice sounding strange in the empty room.

She looked around her, at the rest of the room, but Cassandra was nowhere in sight. She walked out through bedroom door and into the hallway once more, looking left first, then right. She caught sight of Cassandra standing at the door to her Father's room, peering through the doorway that was open, just slightly. Mac slowly walked down the hallway to join Cassandra, then opened her mouth to utter something. Cassandra quickly turned and put her finger to her mouth and silenced her.

Afterwards, Mac would not be able to remember what she had been about to ask her.

Cassandra indicated inside the room with her head and turned her head back to continue her observation. Mac rose up and peered over the top of Cassandra's head to look inside the room and see what Cassandra was looking at. The image had only just hit her eyes, before Mac was wakened from her sleep by her alarm clock and she gave a loud gasp of surprise.

But Mac could not for the life of her recall just what she had seen…What on earth did they do now?

OOOO


	10. Chapter 10

OOOO

See part 1 for disclaimer...

Part 10

Harm and Mac arrived at the mansion on Brookfield Drive, later that morning. Mac had told Harm nothing of the dream she'd had the night before. He had commented in the car that she was quiet, but seemed to notice nothing else. They were following behind a patrol car, which was being driven by the sheriff, who had obtained the search warrant from a county judge, that morning. It allowed them to search through the whole of the Drake household, in the absence of Colonel Drake's carer, Timothy, and remove from the premises any items that they thought to be of importance to their investigation. It wasn't warmly welcomed by the skinny man, but he made no effort to obstruct their search.

"Where would you like to start?" he questioned, with a slight huff.

Harm paused to think, but Mac immediately spoke up, "The colonel's office, please."

"The colonel didn't have an office at home," Timothy told them.

"But didn't he do work at home, after he could no longer make the trip onto base?" Mac asked.

"He hasn't lately, not in a long while," Timothy maintained, "He was much too ill."

"Where did he do work when he was able to?" Mac asked.

Timothy seemed to pause and regard Mac, curiously, then spoke up, "Go left at the top of the stairs. Along the hallway, second-to-last door, on the right."

Harm waited until they were on their way up the stairs, before he shot Mac a questioning look. She just shot one back at him, telling him to trust her. Harm let it go at that. They made their way to the left, along the hall and into the room on the right, Mac feeling more confident of the layout than Harm. She just knew that everything was the same as in her dream, although she technically had no way of knowing this for sure, having not physically been into the room before. Much was as it had been in her dream, but it was a bit emptier. Maybe she had seen it as it had been, as Cassandra remembered it? Once inside the doorway, Harm stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"What's going on, Mac?" he didn't know exactly what, but something peculiar was going on, here.

Before she was able to tell him anything, they were interrupted by Timothy, who apologised, "I'm sorry, I just need to get my driving gloves…"

He made his way to the bureau across the room, opened the drawer second from the top and took out a pair of gloves. After shutting the drawer, he exited the room, Mac watching him as he went.

"What is it, Mac?" Harm brought her to her senses again.

Without saying anything, she quickly hurried over to the bureau and opened the drawer that Timothy had just closed.

"There's nothing there!" she exclaimed softly to Harm, as if it should make all the sense in the world.

"What do you mean?" he asked her, confused, "What's supposed to be in there?"

Mac could say nothing, not for sure, but she was sure that the drawer had once been occupied by Colonel Drake's will.

"Huh," Mac noted to herself, bemused, completely ignoring the mystified Harm, "Now what?"

She turned around, to look at the rest of the room, but caught sight of Cassandra's room, through the door, which had been left open.

"C'mon," she bid Harm and he followed along in her wake.

Once inside Cassandra's room, Mac went straight to the bookcase, while Harm stood and looked around the room, taking in all of the objects that Mac already knew were there. Sure enough, the cross-stitched sampler was framed on the wall.

_"Cassandra Lorraine Drake. Born 2:07pm, Saturday 15th May, 1989. Weighing 6lbs 120z."_

Watching her methodical search, he was struck by some thing and commented, "You been in here before, Mac?"

He knew that she had not been, for she had stayed by his side throughout all of their trips here and he had been in none of the rooms along this corridor.

Mac only looked back at him and smiled, knowingly. Harm thought about it for another minute, as Mac looked through all of the books on the bookshelf, then picked one out, lifting it out, carefully. She turned to him, asking, "Do you have a plastic bag on you? We'll want to get this dusted for prints."

"Mac!" Harm was losing his patience.

"What?" Mac asked, her face all innocence, "Harm?"

Harm's mouth fell open as he hit upon the answer to his earlier question.

"Your dreams!" he exclaimed.

"Huh?" Mac asked, again mock-innocence.

"This was all in your dreams, wasn't it?" Harm asked, not knowing how he had jumped to the conclusion, just somehow knowing that it was the right one, "The dreams you had a few nights ago..."

Mac gave up the pretence and revealed, quietly, "No, not the ones a few nights ago. This one was last night."

"Was Cassandra in this one, too?" Harm asked.

Mac nodded and told him, "She let me in. I think she wanted to show me something."

"That bureau drawer?" Harm asked, "What was in it in your dream?"

"Rolled up paper," Mac told him, "A legal document, I think."

"Colonel Drake's legal will, I'm betting," Harm surmised.

Mac was a bit surprised by Harm's acceptance of all she had to tell him. After all, it had been a dream, a dream where everything was set out in more or less the same position as it was now, but still, none-the-less a dream.

"What?" Harm asked her, as he caught her staring at him, "Yeah, I believe you…You've given me no reason to think that otherwise…"

Mac just gave him a soft, grateful smile, which he returned with one of his own.

"So, what else did Cassie show you?" he asked, breaking the tense moment.

"This," Mac shook the plastic bag that now contained the book that Cassandra had showed her, "And something else…"

Harm followed Mac as she left the room, turned right and made her way back along the hallway.

Mac gently opened the door to what had been Colonel Drake's bedroom, peering inside first, before walking in. The bed that the colonel had previously occupied was now, of course, empty. Other than that, everything else was still in place. The large screen television, a table at the foot of the bed, all of the now-powerless equipment that had kept the colonel's deteriorating body alive.

"What?" Harm asked, "What did she show you, in here?"

"I can't remember," Mac told him, "My alarm clock woke me up before I could see anything…"

They stood there, a moment longer, before they left to look in the rest of the numerous rooms of the house.

OOOO

By early evening, they had seized many items of interest, including the blue hard-back book from Cassandra's bookshelf and several financial documents from Colonel Drake's filing cabinet.

OOOO

It turned out that Colonel Drake was an extremely wealthy man, all of it inherited, obviously not as a result of his military career! It seemed that he was the first in the family who had pursued a military career, most of his family concentrating on their money.

"Well, it was many years ago," Mac had later reasoned, "and they were originally from the north and claimed alliance to the union and the British ancestors from whom they were descended."

"Strange," Harm commented, in reply, "Wonder what would cause one generation to head in such a different direction?"

Mac just shrugged.

"Is our book still not back from forensic?" she asked.

They had submitted it straight after their search had been concluded and that had been two days ago.

"No," Harm told her, "They're backed up at the moment. They said perhaps tomorrow morning or afternoon, at the latest."

"Okay," Mac nodded, "Well, in the meantime, we're going to have to go back and ask General Basingstoke what he remembers of the colonel's will."

"After lunch," Harm stipulated. He had become a little alarmed at how distracted Mac had become, often forgetting that it had been a while since they had eaten, which had never happened before, Mac's life was usually strictly ruled by feeding rituals.

Mac only looked at him, checked her eternal clock then nodded.

"Okay," she agreed, "after lunch."

After a quick trip to a deli they returned to the base and questioned General Basingstoke.

"Yes," he told them, "I meant to contact you yesterday, but too much came up. I found the colonel's will tucked away amongst some other documents in my filing cabinet. I was sure that it wasn't there, but I guess that it was. I guess it's been so long since I've had cause to look in there, it holds my personal files."

As he told them this, he was rooting through the drawers of his desk. Finally, he pulled out a thin bundle of documents and sorted through them, pulling out the one he sought.

"This is it," he told them, "The colonel's last will and testament…"

"And what exactly does it outline?" Harm asked.

The Admiral read through it for a second, then summarised the print;

"I leave the contents and entirety of my estate to Timothy James Dowler, to be kept in trust until my daughter, Cassandra Lorraine Drake, reaches eighteen years of age…"

"And that means…" Harm trailed off.

They all knew what that meant. Because Cassandra had not reached the age of eighteen, the carer, Timothy now technically owned the colonel's estate. And that, in Harm and Mac's book, added Timothy back onto the list of suspects.

OOOO

When they questioned Timothy, the next day, he seemed to know nothing of this revelation.

"Do you know, Sir," Harm asked him, "what would happen to the colonel's estate, in the event of his death?"

"Yes," Timothy nodded, "the colonel told me many times. It would be inherited by the Miss Cassie."

"And in the event of Cassandra's death?" Mac asked.

Timothy just looked at them.

"The colonel couldn't have expected that," he maintained, "He never made any provision for that eventuality…I supposed, that everything will go to another family member."

"The colonel has no other living family," Harm told him.

"But Mrs. Drake did have a sister," Timothy revealed, "I believe she lives up north somewhere."

Their investigation had never revealed this fact.

After further chasing about, they returned to Timothy and told him, "Mrs. Drake's sister is deceased. She died of a kidney condition, mere months ago."

Timothy looked genuinely surprised to hear this.

Once they had left the Drake household, Harm commented, "He really did seem surprised to hear that. Do you think he knows that he's the one who is next in line for the inheritance of the colonel's estate?"

Mac merely shrugged. But she had a nagging suspicion that Timothy did. But she couldn't explain why she felt this.

OOOO


	11. Chapter 11

AN: Well, this is the end of the road, at least for this story. Hope you all enjoy it! JulieM

OOOO

See part 1 for disclaimer…

Part 11…

They went back to chat with the admiral, the next day and he didn't seem able to tell them much else. However, they were just leaving and the admiral was accompanying them out, on his way to a court case, when something he said jumped out at Mac.

"Goodness knows how those documents got into that file, my secretary is usually most careful about how she files away my papers…"

"Sir?" Mac spoke up, "Is it you secretary who files your documents for you?"

"Yes, well, she filed the ones pertaining to the colonel. You see, Cassandra and Timothy often stopped by with them, often when I was in court, if the documents had been back to the colonel for revision. That often happened in the last few months…if neither my secretary or I were in, Timothy would file them away, himself. He knew where everything was kept…"

"Did you not think this unwise?" Harm questioned

"Not at all," the admiral shook his head, "The colonel and I trusted him implicitly. You don't suspect Timothy, do you?"

"He is the one who inherits everything, now," Harm commented.

"I'm sure he didn't know it," the admiral maintained.

Just then, they were cut off, as a familiar car pulled up in the parking lot.

It was the colonel's car, driven by Timothy.

"Timothy," the admiral, shook him warmly by the hand, after the man had climbed out and crossed to join them, "Good to see you, under sorry circumstances, but still…"

Timothy nodded.

"Yes, indeed, Sir. I just wanted to stop by and let you know, the colonel's remains shall be released by the coroner tomorrow and the funeral shall take place on Friday. At St. George's church, followed by the burial at the cemetery, beside Miss Cassandra…There will be no wake afterwards, not under the circumstances. I have a few things that I am still trying to sort out…Commander Rabb, Colonel MacKenzie, you will be more than welcome at the ceremony, too."

Harm nodded their thanks for the invitation, but Mac's eye was caught by something across the street, visible over Timothy's shoulder. The sun was bright that day and was bouncing up off the street, the roofs and windshields of the cars in the car park, but Mac was later almost sure she had seen a young girl standing, watching them from across the street; a young girl who seemed a lot like Cassandra Drake. In the instant that Mac blinked her eyes to try and clear them, the vision had disappeared.

By now, Timothy was now back in his car and driving away. She and Harm bid goodbye to the admiral and climbed back into their own car.

OOOO

They were both finishing dinner, that night, but something would not allow Mac to escape the case. Because of this, she had been silent and introspective, the whole time that they had been back in Harm's room, eating their dinner.

"What is it, Mac?" Harm asked her, noticing how she was only picking at her food, "It's not like you to leaving your food…is it because I wouldn't let you get a hamburger?"

Mac didn't even notice the joke.

"Hmm…" she murmured, "There's something that I'm not seeing…what is it?"

She finally gave up the pretence of eating her baked potato and got up from the small table. She went over and picked up the book that had come back from forensics, that afternoon.

The book turned out to be a journal, which explained why there was no title on the front or on the spine of it. It didn't even look like a journal, which is why it hadn't jumped out at Mac, when she had taken it from the shelf in Cassie's bedroom. It was quite a large, heavy book, probably one that her Father had brought home from his office, which she had then used to record her daily life in.

"Anything interesting?" Harm asked her, after she had scanned through it for a few minutes.

"No," Mac told him and indicated the first page, "Not yet, but I'm a long way back. This is at least three years ago…"

This was how Mac passed the evening, once she returned to her room. She read through the life of Cassandra Drake, seeing many of the events of her own teenage life mirrored in the journal. Of course, Cassandra had not gone off the tracks as a result of domestic abuse like she had, but in the absence of essentially both of her parents, her life outside the home had similarly proved to be very important to Cassie. There were plenty of accounts of her school life; exams, cheerleading rallies, gymnastics meets and, of course, boys. As the pages turned, Jeremy Baker began to have an increasingly important part in Cassandra's life. More so than the boy had told them during their interview. Mac was certain that the boy had known how important he was to Cassandra, it was now obvious when recalling the words contained in his suicide letter. And Mac was surprised when she discovered another fact in Cassandra's journal; Cassandra and Jeremy been more involved than the boy had let Harm, Mac and perhaps any of their mutual friends know. Cassie's journal documented their many meetings, in heart-warming detail, culminating in one only three weeks before. After a birthday party at a friends' house, they had snuck off on their own, while their friends had not been looking…

OOOO

Harm opened his door, already knowing who was knocking urgently, on the other side.

"Hey Mac, what's up?" he greeted her.

She simply strode in past him and turned to face him.

"It wasn't Jeremy," she stated, beyond the shadow of a doubt.

"How do you know?" Harm asked her.

"She and Jeremy were a little more into each other than they let on…"

"They were dating?" Harm asked.

"Uh-huh," Mac nodded, adding, "in secret. I can't figure out why…but there's something else, apart from that."

She held up the journal for Harm's inspection and as he read, his cheeks began to flush…

"Uh-huh," Mac nodded, "That's right."

"Mac!" Harm protested, struggling for the words, "Why didn't you just tell me that Cassie and Jeremy were…were…intimate…Why did you have to let me read…that! Geez, the things you girls put down on paper!"

Mac just ignored Harm's outburst and his very obvious embarrassment.

"Turns out, she was a virgin until she met Jeremy and so was he," she revealed, "Quite cute, really. They seemed to be pretty certain about the move…"

"But they were both under sixteen years old!" Harm protested.

"And how old were you, Harmon Rabb?" Mac demanded. Sure, she had been a little surprised herself, but surely Harm realised that these things did go on, especially between kids as lovesick as Jeremy Cassy had obviously been.

"I'm going to tell you nothing of the sort!" Harm flustered then tried a diversionary tactic, "But anyway, what about that tells you that Jeremy Baker didn't murder Cassandra…Other than the fact that he never confessed, even in the suicide note?"

"We will be returning to this," Mac smiled, addressing her previous question, before she addressed Harm's, "Well, it's something that she says, later on, just a few days before her death."

Mac flipped forwards in the book.

"Here," she resumed, "In this bit, she notes how much attention Timothy was paying to her. She noted three occasions when he turned up to pick her up from school, unexpectedly. She says she thinks he's trying to keep her away from Jeremy."

"So that means what?" Harm asked her, "That Timothy did it?"

"Not exactly, no," Mac admitted, "But that's the way that I'm leaning…"

"We don't have any hard proof, Mac," Harm began, "You know as well as I do that there was no murder weapon found, there was no gun linking him to the bullet wound

Cassandra sustained…"

"Murder weapon..." Mac murmured.

"Mac?" Harm tried to get her attention.

"Harm, what was the murder weapon?" Mac turned and asked him.

Harm paused to think about it; the bullet wound hadn't exactly killed her, although it had contributed to it. Her lungs had collapsed following a huge amount of force to her back.

"The killer smothered her by leaning on her back and…"

"…stuffing something in her mouth," Mac finished off.

She paused for a second, in internal contemplation, then obviously came to some sort of decision. She reached out and took him by the hand. Harm could not fathom what happened next, and could only describe it as sequences, flashing before his eyes;

First, it was him and Mac with the coroner, who was telling them that a piece of leather had been recovered from between Cassie's back teeth.

Next he seemed to be looking out from Cassandra's eyes as she struggled on the ground, some unseen force pinning her on her front, forcing something inside her mouth.

He and Mac were interviewing Timothy, who was telling them that he knew nothing about the contents of the colonel's will.

He was looking out through Mac's eyes, as she lifted out the pair of leather gloves from the drawer of the bureau, obviously in the dream she had had, the night before their search of the mansion.

Next he was back in the room, the next day, when Timothy had come in and removed the gloves from the drawer, in their very presence.

Timothy was telling them that the colonel had never made any provision for Cassandra's death in his will. This was something that immediately struck Harm as suspicious, as he had told them previously that he had known no details of the colonel's will.

Harm was seeing out through Mac's eyes again, that afternoon when Timothy had turned up on the base. He saw the man exit the car, still with his driving gloves on. But he noticed nothing of the invitation to the colonel's funeral this time, because Mac had noticed the figure of Cassandra Drake, across the lot, over Timothy's shoulder. Harm could not see her that clearly, but did not miss the distinct nod she gave him.

Finally, he was again in Mac's dream, when she had been looking over Cassie to see

Timothy leaning over Colonel Drake, watching the frail man bent over something Timothy had placed on the table in front of him; a document.

When Harm eventually came to his senses, Mac was watching him, carefully.

"You just saw that, too?" she asked him, eventually.

Harm nodded then sprang into action.

"Of course!" he spluttered, "It all makes sense…Timothy did know what was in that will, he knew exactly what he would inherit…"

"I don't think the colonel willingly left his estate to Timothy," Mac shook her head.

"Why?" Harm asked.

"Because, up until recently," Mac continued, "the admiral was sure it wasn't in his office.

Then, all of a sudden, it turns up in a file which Timothy had access to."

"You think that he revised the will, got the colonel to sign it and then slipped it into that file in the admiral's filing cabinet?

Mac nodded.

"So Timothy killed Cassandra to get his hands on the money?" Harm continued.

"And because he realised that she knew what he had done," Mac added.

"How did he know that?" Harm asked.

Mac thought about it for a minute.

"Well, the colonel's original will still hasn't turned up…maybe Cassandra took it and that tipped him off?"

"Or, he could have just burned it. He had no need for it…"

"Maybe," Mac nodded, "But whatever happened to Colonel Drake's original will, it's still obvious that Timothy did kill Cassandra…We need to get hold of those gloves!"

"I'll contact the sheriff and Admiral Basingstoke," Harm nodded, reaching for his phone.

OOOO

It didn't take long to arrest Timothy Dowler and get hold of his driving gloves.

Without knowing it, he had led them straight to the only item linking him with Cassandra's murder.

"Why did you do it?" the admiral demanded of him, before he was bundled into the waiting police car.

"She found out," Timothy stated, simply, "I couldn't let her tell you…that's where she was headed, you know, to your office."

"And the colonel's will, the one he signed of his free will?" Harm asked the man, "What did you do with that?"

"Nothing," Timothy maintained, "But I know that she took it. I accidentally left it out, in the colonel's room, with the one I had altered. She must have read mine and taken the original when she went to say goodbye to the colonel, before she left for school, that morning. I have no idea what she did with it."

Harm gestured for the police officer to take him away.

OOOO

"I still don't understand where the will could have gone," Harm mentioned, later that day, after they had submitted their final report to Admiral Basingstoke, "If Cassandra didn't have it on her person, then where else could she have hidden it? She was on her way to school and Timothy was pursuing her."

"She never went into the school," Mac noted, "Somebody would have seen her and she was on her way to meet Jeremy and go to tell Admiral Basingstoke."

"Then she couldn't have taken it with her," Harm surmised, "But we didn't find it amongst the contents of the house…"

Mac suddenly grabbed his arm, stopping in her stride.

"Unless…" she trailed off, in thought.

She quickly led Harm back inside.

"Where are we going?" Harm stepped up his pace, in order to keep up with her.

"I think I know where that will is," Mac told him.

Harm followed her, wordlessly, until they got back to the Admiral's office.

"Sir, we have just one more loose end to tie up," she told the man, requesting, "Could we possibly take another look at that journal?"

The admiral just nodded and extracted the item from the cardboard box that he had been about to send down to storage.

Mac took it from him and opened it to the back cover. Then, with the admiral's permission, she borrowed the mail opener from his desk and carefully slipped it beneath the inside cover.

"I saw this in a movie, once," she explained to them, manoeuvring the metal object around, carefully.

Harm and the admiral gave a sigh of amazement as the card came away from the book's thick cover. They saw that even though you could not tell from the outside, a piece of paper had been folded and hidden inside, between the book and the inside cover. This was because several layers of the book cover had actually been cut and peeled away, so that no trace of the extra paper could be seen through the inside cover.

"Smart kid," General Basingstoke smiled.

"This," Mac unfolded the single piece of paper, "is the colonel's last will and testament."

She passed it to Harm, who looked at it and concluded, "Yep, short and succinct, because there was only one person whom he needed to mention in detail; Cassandra. He left his entire fortune and estate to her. Timothy is mentioned, very briefly, along with the amount of twenty thousand dollars, for his long-time devotion and care."

"And that was why he forged the colonel's will," Admiral Basingstoke continued,

"Because he felt like he was entitled to something more than that."

OOOO

Harm and Mac walked out to their rental car and began the drive back to their lodgings, to get their gear together.

Driving past Brookfield High, Harm turned to Mac and commented, "Think about how close Timothy was to actually getting away with this."

Mac nodded, "Yeah, Jeremy's suicide gave him the perfect opportunity to blame it on somebody else."

"How were you so sure that it wasn't Jeremy?" Harm asked, curious.

"Somebody made sure that she let me know," Mac admitted, honestly, "no matter how much I tried to pretend that it was just my eyes playing tricks on me. I'm glad she was so insistent, though."

"Because she can finally rest in peace?" Harm asked.

"Yeah," Mac nodded, "she doesn't need to fight anymore, she'll be able to let go of this side of life and embrace whatever it is that comes next."

"Amen," Harm nodded, with a smile.

The End


End file.
